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LOS  CERRITOS 


A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  MODERN  TIME 


BY 

GERTRUDE  FRANKLIN  ATHERTON 

AUTHOR    OF 

"HERMIA  SUYDAM"  AND  "WHAT 
DREAMS  MAY  COME." 


NEW  YORK 
JOHN   W.    LOVELL   COMPANY 

150  WORTH  ST.,  COR.  MISSION  PLACE 


COPYRIGHT,  1890, 

BY 
JOHN    W .    LOVELL. 


4  at? 


To 


MY   MOTHER-IN-LAW 
SENORA  DOMINGA  GONI  DE  ATHERTON 


A  PRELIMINARY  WORD. 


As  I  have  introduced  in  this  book  a  dialect  new 
to  American  literature,  perhaps  a  word  of  explan 
ation  will  not  be  amiss.  It  may  be  thought  at 
times  that  I  am  inconsistent  in  its  use,  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact  no  American  dialect  is  more  incon 
sistent  in  itself.  Not  only  do  no  two  people  speak 
it  exactly  alike,  but  no  man  speaks  it  with  con 
sistency  to  himself.  He  mixes  his  participles, 
garnishes  his  verbs  with  wandering  "  a's,"  trans 
poses  his  pronouns,  and  peppers  his  sentences  with 
irrelevant  words  in  a  wholly  arbitrary  manner. 
He  is  guided  by  ear  and  association  alone,  and 
the  author  in  revealing  him  must  trust  to  her 
own  ear,  aided  by  memory  and  habit.  The  law  of 
phonetics  is  absolute  in  the  dialect  of  the  native 
Calif ornian;  there  is  no  other.  Were  I  not  almost 
as  familiar  with  this  dialect  as  with  the  English 
language,  I  should  never  venture  to  handle  it. 
GEETEUDE  FEANKLIN  ATHEETON. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PAKT  I. 

THE  REDWOOD. 

PAGE 

I.— Carmelita, 9 

II. — An  Adobe  Mansion, 26 

III.— A  Broad  Domain, 30 

IV.— The  Priest  and  the  Girl, 34 

V.— A  Child  of  Nature, 46 

VI. — A  Dangerous  Suitor, 58 

VII.— The  Death  of  a  Titan,  .        .        .        .        .        .63 

VIII.— A  Herald  of  Bad  Tidings, 71 

IX. — The  Cordovas  of  Lindavista,       ....  79 

X. — A  New  Experience,       ......  83 

XI.— A  Page  from  the  Book  of  Life,   ....  98 

XII.— A  Weary  Year, 107 

INTEELUDE. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  .       .       .  .       .       .121 


PAET  II. 

THE  MAN. 

I. — The  Daughter  of  Joaquin  Murietta,          .        .     143 
II.— Two  Confessions,  151 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

III. — Incarnate, 161 

IV. — Nature  Awakens, 174 

V.— The  Priest  and  the  Woman,        ....  191 
VI.— In  the  Shadow  of  the  Mission,    .        .        .        .197 

VII.— Alexander  Tremaine, 209 

VIII.— At  the  Foot  of  the  Cross, 216 

IX.— Three  Citizens  of  Cerritos, 219 

X. — A  Broken  Meditation, 230 

XI. — In  Vasquez  Canon, 234 

XII.— A  Ghost, 246 

XIII.— The  Respite, 256 

XIV.— Rich  and  Poor, 263 

XV.— Dividing  Lines, 273 

XVT.—  Peace, 278 

XVII.— Three  Lamps  Go  Out, 282 

THE  LITANY  OF  THE  REDWOODS,    .       .       .  297 


PART  I. 

THE   REDWOOD 


LOS  CERRITOS; 

A   ROMANCE    OF   THE    MODERN   TIME. 


I. 

CARMELITA. 

"HuA  of  a  thief!  Carmelita  Banditita!  Go 
finda  your  father  and  robba  the  stage !  Go  taka 
the  gold  and  cutta  the  throat!  Where  your 
mother?  Who  she  was?  Who  marrying  her? 
Caramba!  little  black  bandit,  go  steal  for  the 
books.  We  no  wanting  you  here." 

"  I  no  am  bandit,"  panted  the  child. 

The  teacher,  in  fleeting  respite,  was  down  on  the 
river  bank  eating  her  luncheon,  and  the  new 
comer  was  at  the  mercy  of  her  schoolmates.  That 
virtuous  and  relative  indignation  which  will 
struggle  to  flower  in  the  thorniest  human  heart 
under  the  wind-brought  pollen  of  a  poisonous 


10  LOS   CERRITOS. 

weed,  had  opened  and  sent  forth  its  somewhat 
over-powering  perfume  in  a  half -civilized  ranch  in 
central  California.  A  band  of  bare-footed,  grimy 
youngsters,  with  the  black  eyes  of  Mexico  and  the 
sturdy  frames  of  a  casual  emigrant  grandparent, 
children  whose  fathers  counted  their  stolen  chick 
ens  with  their  beads,  gathered,  with  loud  cries  and 
angry  menace,  about  a  little  girl  who  was  branded 
with  the  superior  iniquity  of  an  outlawed  father. 
The  child  stood  with  set  teeth  and  stiffening  fin 
gers,  but  kept  her  small  bare  feet  planted  upon 
one  spot,  as  if  determined  to  return  insult  with 
disdain,  until  one  of  the  little  half-breeds,  carried 
away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  cause,  picked  up 
a  stone  and  threw  it  at  her.  Then  with  a  cry  of 
pent  up  rage  and  shame,  Carmelita  sprang  upon 
her  assailant,  and  flinging  him  to  the  ground, 
dealt  him  a  blow  that  drew  forth  the  howl  of  a 
lassooed  coyote.  The  others,  enraged  anew  at 
their  comrade's  discomfiture,  set  up  a  shrill  and 
simultaneous  yell  and  with  one  accord  cast  them 
selves  upon  Carmelita.  Kicking,  hitting,  and  bit 
ing,  she  managed  to  struggle  through  the  vocifer 
ating  crowd  just  as  the  teacher  reappeared  and 


LOS   CERRITOS.  II 

ordered  them  all  into  the  school-house.  The 
school-mistress,  who  was  a  mild  and  dull  young 
woman,  the  graduate  of  a  country  town,  and  glad 
to  get  a  situation  of  any  sort,  but  who  inspired 
awe  upon  the  Cerritos  Rancho  from  the  fact  that 
she  wore  shoes,  and  a  gown  of  unknown  and  won 
derful  cut,  gave  Carmelita  as  stern  a  glance  as  her 
meagre  features  would  assume  and  bade  the  di 
shevelled  little  culprit  go  to  her  seat.  But  Carme 
lita  by  this  time  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  insult 
the  sun  in  his  course.  Without  a  word  in  answer 
to  her  teacher's  fiat,  she  turned  her  back  and 
stalked  haughtily  up  the  road  to  the  house  of  the 
padre,  a  mile  away. 

The  padre  never  forgot  that  first  interview  with 
Carmelita.  He  was  sitting  in  his  bare,  comfort 
less  study,  endeavoring  to  write  a  sermon  which 
should  respond  to  something  between  the  narrow 
temples  of  these  savages  he  had  come  to  labor 
among,  when  he  heard  a  peremptory  knock  at  his 
outer  door.  Going  at  once  to  welcome  his  visi 
tor  he  discovered  a  rigid  little  figure  with  blazing 
eyes  and  hot  cheeks.  He  had  arrived  at  the  Mis 
sion  only  two  weeks  before,  but  he  recognized  the 


12  LOS   CERRITOS. 

child  as  one  of  many  lie  had  seen  trooping  at 
Pedro  Espinoza's  heels  a  few  days  ago  and  whose 
attendance  at  school  he  had  then  suggested. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  he  asked  kindly.  "  Come  to  the 
fire,  and  tell  me.;' 

Carmelita  marched  in  behind  him,  and  as  the 
padre  resumed  his  seat  he  turned  to  face  a  small 
virago,  who  clenching  both  small  hands,  gave 
vent  to  a  torrent  of  vituperation  against  which 
his  remonstrances  were  like  planks  before  a  flood. 
She  cursed  the  children  and  she  cursed  the  teacher. 
She  cursed  the  school-house  and  she  cursed  the 
books.  But  above  all,  with  hissing,  blistering 
contumely,  she  cursed  the  padre  who  was  the  first 
cause  in  this  chain  of  her  woes.  Upon  his  bewil 
dered  head  she  called  down  every  damnation  to  be 
found  in  the  store-house  of  her  ten  years'  experi 
ence.  She  hoped  that  a  pine  tree  would  fall  on 
him  and  kill  him,  that  the  current  in  the  river 
would  catch  his  horse  and  sweep  him  to  his  death. 
She  prayed  that  fire  would  roast  him,  and  mus 
tangs  bite  his  head  from  his  body.  She  would 
have  him  sink  in  a  bog  like  Juan  Ferrara,  with 
only  his  hat  to  tell  the  tale.  She  would  have  a 


LOS  CERRITOS.  13 

Chinaman  murder  him  and  an  earthquake  bury 
him.  She  would  have  him  stuck  with  a  thousand 
pins,  were  there  only  as  many  in  the  world,  and 
she  would  have  him  stewed  in  the  iron  pot  with 
the  beans.  When  breath  and  vocabulary  were 
alike  exhausted,  she  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 

The  padre  was  startled  but  interested.  Her  fire 
and  audacity  amused  him,  and  instead  of  admin 
istering  a  reproof  to  cement  her  hatred  he  poured 
her  a  glass  of  water  from  a  pitcher  on  the  table 
at  his  elbow.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  Carmelita 
would  have  disdained  nectar  from  his  hands,  but 
by  this  time  she  was  limp,  and  anger  had  given 
place  to  weariness.  The  padre  made  her  drink 
the  water,  then  carried  her  into  the  next  room  and 
laid  her  on  his  bed.  She  fell  asleep  as  soon  as 
she  had  recovered  from  the  surprise  induced  by  a 
white  pillow  case,  and  the  sun  was  aiming  drow 
sily  for  the  west  when  she  awoke.  When  the 
padre  heard  her  slip  to  the  floor  he  went  at  once 
and  led  her  back  into  his  sitting  room.  Carme 
lita,  somewhat  sheepishly  took  possession  of  his 
forefinger  and  trotted  beside  him.  When  he 
reached  his  chair  by  the  fire  he  put  her  on  his 


14  LOS   CERRITOS. 

knee  and  remonstrated  upon  the  injustice  of  hold 
ing  him  to  account  for  the  ignorance  and  ill-nature 
of  a  troop  of  malicious  youngsters,  and  succeeded 
in  making  her  understand  that  his  suggestion  of 
the  school  had  been  prompted  by  an  interest  in 
her  welfare  alone. 

"  But  I  no  going  any  more,"  sobbed  Carmelita, 
by  this  time  quite  overcome,  "They  calling  me 
'  Hija  of  a  thief,'  and  say  my  father  is  bad  man. 
He  no  is  thief.  He  only  taka  tl;e  moneys  from 
the  rich  in  the  stage,  my  aunt  she  say  so.  He 
never  been  in  the  prison  like  Carlos  Castro's 
father,  and  he  no  stealing  the  chickens  and  pigs, 
only  the  gold.  He  no  been  hang  up  like  Yasquez, 
and  he  weara  the  shoses  like  you.  He  no  is  low, 
bad  man.  He  is  " 

She  broke  off,  unable  to  find  the  word  which 
should  express  her  father's  superior  social  status 
as  compared  with  the  common  pig  and  chicken- 
thief.  Doubtless  she  wrould  have  distinguished 
him  with  the  comprehensive  if  unfashionable  title 
of  gentleman,  but  that  word  was  as  yet  un- 
added  to  the  Cerritos  vocabulary.  The  padre 
smiled  as  he  listened  to  the  social  ethics  of  the 


LOS   CERRITOS.  15 

world  from  which  he  had  come, — the  ethics  which 
are  the  outgrowth  of  that  love  of  the  picturesque 
which  is  latent  in  every  imaginative  mind,  yet 
which  so  often  expires  in  snobbery — spring  sponta 
neously  from  the  lips  of  a  little  barbarian  of  ten. 
He  wisely  made  no  attempt  to  warp  her  admira 
tion  of  her  father,  that  famous  Joaquin  Murietta, 
for  whose  head  the  government  had  been  offering 
a  reward  for  twenty  years.  Disillusion  would 
come  with  moral  development;  let  her  keep  the 
one  ideal  of  her  barren  little  life,  while  she  might. 
But  what  he  could  do  for  this  impulsive  and  pas 
sionate,  yet  sweet  and  loyal  nature,  ke  would ;  his 
banishment  to  this  outpost  of  civilization  should 
not  be  wholly  in  vain. 

"  I  will  be  your  teacher,"  he  said,  pushing  the 
black  clinging  hair  out  of  her  wet  eyes.  "  Come 
to  me  every  day  and  I  will  teach  you  all  that 
it  is  good  for  you  to  know.  You  shall  learn 
to  read  and  write,  and  by-and-by  I  will  get  you 
some  books.  They  make  life  shorter.  But  you 
must  not  know  too  much— not  too  much.  Just 
enough  not  to  gasp  under  the  smothering,  blind 
ing  shame  of  ignorance.  But  not  too  much.  A 


16  LOS  CERRITOS, 

little  knowledge  is  a  strong  and  consoling  friend ; 
too  much  an  enemy,  who,  mirage  like,  beckons  us 
on  and  on  to  conquer  city  after  city, — realm  after 
realm — until  we  fall  panting  and  dying — among 
the  ruins  that  totter  on  the  thin, — iron, — swaying, 
— scandent  wall — that  divides  the  Finite  from  the 

Infinite " 

He  had  forgotten  Carmelita.  His  chin  dropped 
on  his  chest  and  he  gazed  at  the  struggling  wood 
and  flame  in  the  deep  fireplace,  with  the  look  of 
one  whose  spirit  has  flown  eagerly  from  the  dull 
monotone  of  its  present  back  to  the  chaos  of  its 
past.  In  that  barren  room,  with  the  dark  patches 
on  the  peeling  adobe  walls  distorted  into  weird, 
grotesque  figures  by  the  wizard  hand  of  the  fire 
on  the  hearth,  he  was  a  strikingly  dissonant  note. 
The  bent  yet  spirited  head,  the  slender,  muscular 
figure,  the  aquiline  profile  with  its  delicate,  dilat 
ing  nostrils,  were  those  of  a  man  whose  family 
leaves  had  bestrewed  an  old-world  glade  before 
some  plethoric  "Mayflower"  had  transplanted 
the  roots  to  a  younger  soil.  The  head,  large 
above  the  ears,  and  the  black,  deep-set  eyes,  were 
boldly  indicative  of  intellectual  power.  The  lines 


LOS  CERRITOS.  1? 

about  the  finely  chiselled  mouth,  and  the  gray  in 
his  hair  were  like  outline  sketches  whose  artist 
has  but  indicated  the  suffering  he  could  paint  in 
if  he  would.  The  mouth,  too,  had  once  been  full ; 
what  had  set  and  hardened  it  until  passion  had 
petrified  to  dogged  resolve?  And  those  sensitive 
nostrils,  no  muscular  constriction  could  draw  in 
ward  their  quick  responding  curves;  the  man's 
face  was  not  a  mask  yet.  About  him,  in  spite  of 
his  shabby  garb  and  his  purposely  disarranged 
hair,  was  an  unmistakable  air  of  high-breeding. 
What  had  brought  him  to  this  God-forsaken  place 
to  horde  with  barbarians  and  watch  soul  and  mind 
stagnate?  Even  the  child  on  his  knee,  poor, 
ignorant  little  savage  that  she  was,  felt  vaguely 
the  influence  of  a  superior  personality.  She  put 
out  her  hand  and  touched  his. 

"  Who  you  are? "  she  asked  softly. 

His  spirit  flashed  back  from  those  archives  of 
the  past  and  he  smiled  into  the  serious  eyes  up 
raised  to  his  own.  Carmelita  had  beautiful  eyes, 
black  as  an  unstarred  sky,  and  the  lashes  that 
fringed  them  were  thick  and  soft  as  the  sweeping 
moss  which  a  night's  sharp  frost  has  painted 

2 


1 8  LOS   CERRITOS. 

black.  The  padre  pushed  her  heavy  hair,  silky  as 
spun  glass,  from  her  small  ear,  and  laid  her  hand 
on  one  of  his.  It  was  rough  and  brown,  but  the 
shape  was  as  perfect  as  his  own,  in  spite  of  the 
blunt  little  nails. 

"  Who  are  you? "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  the  muchatita  de  Joaquin  Murietta,"  she 
answered  proudly. 

"I  know;  but  who  was  your  mother?  How  is 
it  you  live  with  Espinoza?" 

"  He  is  my  uncle,  because  he  marry  the  sister  of 
my  father — you  see?  One  night  ten  years  ago, 
Tia  Mariana  she  sitting  by  the  fire  all  alone  in 
the  hacienda,  making  the  closes  for  Juan,  who  no 
coming  yet.  She  hear  a  noise  and  she  jump  up, 
because  she  is  alone  and  she  have  be  careful  of  the 
robbas.  Then  she  sitting  down  again  and  begin 
to  cry.  It  is  my  father  who  is  there,  right  by  the 
fire.  He  no  say  one  word,  but  he  putting  a  bun 
dle  in  her  lap  and  then  he  go  lika  he  come,  with 
no  one  word.  My  aunt  opa  the  bundle,  and  she 
finda  me,  a  little  black  thing — I  no  am  so  black 
now — and*  kicking  and  squealing.  That  night 
somebody  he  robba  the  stage.  I  no  knowing  who 


LOS   CERRITOS.  19 

it  is  " — with  an  air  of  conscious  pride — "  but  the 
next  morning  my  aunt  she  find  on  the  table  a 
bundle  of  gold,  and  on  the  paper  my  father  have 
write — 'For  the  Carmelita.'  Three  years  ago — 
four  years  —  I  no  remember  exactamente,  my 
father  coming  one  night  and  picka  me  out  of  the 
bed  and  kissing  me  one  dossen  times,  I  think. 
But  he  no  saying  one  word  excep  'Monica!  Mo 
nica  ! '  and  he  cry  and  cry.  After  that  he  go  and 
I  no  seeing  him  no  more.  Oh !  I  wish  I  seeing 
him,  just  one  momente !  " 

The  padre  put  his  arm  about  her  and  smiled  as 
he  felt  a  solitary  flame  of  human  affection  push 
ing  its  way  among  the  ice-points  in  his  heart. 
"And  your  mother,  chiquita?  Who  was  she?  It 
was  from  her  you  got  those  hands  and  ears  and 
the  fine  threads  of  your  hair." 

Carmelita's  full  red  mouth  trembled,  and  she 
shook  her  head.  "  I  no  know,"  she  said.  "  My 
father  no  telling  my  aunt  nothing.  Those  much- 
achos  " — her  eyes  blazed  again  like  young  volcanos 
— "  those  muchachos  they  saying  no  one  know  who 
is  my  mother.  They  say  my  father  no  marrying. 


20  LOS   CERRITOS. 

But  it  no  is  so !  It  no  is  so !  Oil !  I  wish  my  aunt 
she  knowing." 

"I  will  tell  you  a  story  I  once  heard  about 
Joaquin  Murietta,"  said  the  padre.  "Put  your 
head  down  on  my  shoulder  and  look  at  the  fire. 
Some  people  can  see  stories  and  pictures  in  the 
coals.  I  fancy  you  can,  and  this  is  a  story  with 
several  pictures  the  flames  would  like  to  paint." 

Carmelita,  with  all  a  child's  delight  at  hearing 
a  story,  adjusted  herself  comfortably  in  the  padre's 
embrace  and  fixed  her  eyes  in  dancing  anticipa 
tion  on  the  blazing  logs. 

"Once,  eleven  or  twelve  years  ago  (yes,  just 
about  twelve  years  ago),  there  lived  in  an  ancient 
adobe  house  in  Santa  Barbara  an  old  man  whose 
grandfather,  many  years  before,  had  been  a  Com- 
mandante  of  the  post — in  those  days,  chiquita, 
when  the  Jesuit  padres  were  building  this  Mis 
sion  and  many  like  it.  For  some  reason  which  no 
one  ever  knew,  the  Senor  don  Rodriguez  Alvarado 
chose  to  live  like  a  hermit,  refusing  to  have  aught 
to  do  with  his  neighbors,  and  never  seen  abroad. 
With  him  lived  a  beautiful  daughter,  so  beautiful 
that  the  young  men  of  the  town,  in  the  hope  of 


LOS   CERRITOS.  21 

having  a  glimpse  of  her,  used  to  walk  by  day  and 
by  night  up  and  down  the  road  before  the  high 
wall  which  hid  all  but  the  chimneys  and  the  hot 
red  tiles  of  her  lonely  home.  Sometimes  they  did 
see  her  \valking  among  the  weeds  and  tangled 
brush  of  the  garden,  or  bending  over  her  books  at 
the  window ;  but  to  gain  that  much  they  had  to 
climb  the  wall  like  thieves,  and  not  a  word  or 
smile  did  they  ever  win  from  her.  They  would 
toast  her  in  the  town,  and  then,  with  the  wine 
steaming  in  their  veins,  they  would  run  down  the 
road  and  throw  flowers  and  ribbons  and  gold 
chains  over  the  wall ;  but  the  next  morning  they 
would  return  to  find  their  gifts  trampled  in  the 
dust  of  the  road. 

"One  day  a  whisper  went  through  the  town 
that  Joaquin  Marietta  was  in  the  mountains.  A 
stage  had  been  robbed  and  the  driver  swore  that 
he  had  recognized  the  famous  bandit;  there  was 
something  about  his  erect,  powerful  form  and  in 
his  bearing  that  no  one  who  had  ever  seen  or 
heard  him  described  could  fail  to  recognize.  Two 
days  later,  at  early  dawn,  a  strange  spectacle  was 
seen  in  Santa  Barbara.  A  poor  old  man,  his  white 


22  LOS   CERRITOS. 

hair  flying,  his  eyes  wandering  with  the  aimless 
glance  of  one  whose  reason  has  crumbled  under  a 
sudden  shock,  ran  through  the  streets  shaking  his 
nerveless  hands  and  crying,  'My  daughter!  My 
daughter! '  People  came  out  of  their  houses  and 
three  or  four  recognized  the  hermit.  In  an  hour 
the  whole  town  was  alarmed  and  the  young  men 
went  in  a  body  to  the  old  adobe  house,  half  fear 
ing, — half  hoping — that  at  last  they  would  speak 
with  the  beautiful  Monica.  Why  do  you  start, 
my  child?  They  searched  the  house  unrebuked, 
but  no  Monica  was  there.  Then,  indeed,  conster 
nation  spread  like  fever  in  a  tule  marsh,  and  every 
effort  was  made  to  make  the  old  man  tell  what 
had  happened.  But  his  mind  had  gone,  and  from 
his  mumbling  they  could  only  gather  that  the 
night  before,  masked  and  armed  men  had  broken 
into  his  house  and  carried  his  daughter  away. 

"Two  days  later  the  mystery  was  explained. 
The  padre  of  a  Mission  high  up  in  the  mountains 
came  riding  down  into  the  town  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement  and  told  every  group  he  met  that  three 
nights  before,  six  men,  armed  to  the  teeth,  the 
chief  carrying  a  woman,  had  forced  open  his  door 


LOS   CERRITOS.  23 

and  ordered  him  to  get  out  his  prayer-book  and 
read  the  marriage-service.  He  had  expostulated 
and  demanded  the  usual  delay  and  forms,  but  the 
flash  of  a  revolver  in  the  dim  room  had  put  all 
doubts  to  flight.  He  only  begged  leave  to  put  on 
his  musty  old  robes,  and  when  he  returned  he 
found  that  a  lantern  had  been  lit.  Against  the 
wall  like  statues  stood  the  armed  men.  One  held 
the  lantern  aloft  that  its  ray  might  fall  on  the 
prayer  book  in  the  padre's  hand.  Before  them 
stood  the  chief,  tall  and  strong  as  a  forest  tree, 
his  fierce  eyes  flashing  as  the  wind  moaned  like  a 
warning  voice  in  the  cypresses  without,  softening 
as  they  turned  to  the  beautiful  woman  his  arm 
upheld.  The  woman,  trembling  and  excited,  gave 
her  vows  willingly  enough  and  clung  tenderly  to 
her  strange  lover.  The  names  these  two  gave  at 
that  weird  wedding,  in  that  silent  mountain  forest, 
were  Joaquin  Marietta  and  Monica  Alvarado." 

Long  before  the  padre  had  finished,  Carmelita 
had  raised  herself  from  her  nestling  position  and 
was  kneeling  on  his  lap,  her  flushed  face  quiver 
ing,  her  whole  form  vibrating.  As  he  uttered  the 
last  word  she  flung  her  arms  about  him  and  cov- 


24  LOS   CERRITOS. 

ered  his  face  with  a  rain  of  kisses.  u  Mi  madre ! 
Mi  madre!  "  she  sobbed  wildly,  "  Mama!  Mama!  " 

The  priest  felt  the  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  Yes,"  he 
said,  "  I  believe  that  was  your  mother." 

"And  where  she  is?  Where  she  is?"  cried  Car- 
melita  burying  her  face  in  his  neck  and  bursting 
into  a  storm  of  tears,  hot  and  wild  as  a  tropical 
rain.  "  Oh !  taking  me  to  her.  Padre  mio !  where 
she  is  ?  Where  she  is? " 

"  She  is  dead,  I  am  afraid,"  said  the  priest 
gently.  "  Else  you  would  be  with  her." 

"  No !  no !  she  no  is  dead,"  cried  the  child,  all 
the  pent-up  yearning  of  years  bursting  from  the 
starved  little  heart  in  a  wild,  bitter  wail.  "  No, 
no,  padre.  I  want  mama.  She  no  is  dead.  She 
no  would  leaving  me.  Oh!  mamacita!  mama- 
cita!  mamacita! '' 

The  grief  of  childhood  is  terrible  while  it  lasts, 
it  is  so  abandoned  and  so  all-possessing.  The 
red  hot  drops  cut  the  spirit's  tablets  like  acid,  and 
woman  is  often  saddened  by  the  memory  of  her 
young  soul's  suffering.  The  padre  was  at  a  loss 
what  to  do  with  the  convulsed  little  thing  he  held 
in  his  arms,  so  he  wisely  did  nothing.  After  a 


LOS   CERRITOS.  25 

time  the  sobs  ceased  and  Carmelita's  head  fell 
once  more  on  the  padre's  shoulder. 

"  I  no  crying  any  more,"  she  said  after  a  half- 
hour's  meditation,  which  the  padre  had  foreborne 
to  interrupt.  "  Mama  is  dead.  I  only  will  say  a 
prayer  to  see  papa." 

"Poor  child,"  said  the  padre,  "life,  young  as 
you  are,  has  taught  you  philosophy.  Yes,  some 
day  perhaps  you  will  see  your  papa.  I  am  to  be 
your  best  friend,  you  know,  and  I  will  say  a 
prayer  every  day  in  the  Mission  that  you  may  see 
your  father  once  more." 

She  raised  her  arms,  and  putting  them  about 
his  neck,  laid  her  lips  to  his  cheek.  "  I  love 
you,"  she  said,  "  I  so  glad  you  coming  here  and  I 
do  it  all  what  you  say." 


26  LOS   CERRITOS. 


1L 

AN  ADOBE  MANSION. 

IT  was  evening  when  Carmelita  returned  to  her 
home,  a  long,  low,  adobe  building  about  a  mile 
from  the  padre's  house  and  standing  on  the  banks 
of  the  river.  The  house  was  a  type  of  its  kind ; 
a  line  of  rooms  built  directly  on  the  ground  and 
opening  one  and  all  upon  a  porch  that  traversed 
the  structure's  front  from  end  to  end;  the  sloping 
roof  covered  with  dark  red  tiles  that  looked  like 
long,  round  chimneys  split  in  half;  the  white- 

* 

wash  within  and  without  peeling  off  in  great 
weather-stained  patches ;  the  deep,  low  window- 
seats  its  only  comfort.  From  the  clumsily -raftered 
ceiling  of  the  large  living-room  hung  graceful 
ropes  of  blood-red  peppers,  pearl-hued  onions,  and 
hard,  glittering,  amber-like  ears  of  corn.  Through 
the  open  windows  shone  the  delicate  green  of  the 
willows  of  the  river,  and  the  blue-birds  and  long- 
beaked  scarlet  and  orange  magpies  pecked  at  their 


LOS   CERRITOS.  2/ 

trunks.  In  the  wide,  open  door- way  and  on  the 
hard  clay  floor,  ragged,  unkempt  children  of  all 
ages  and  sizes  were  tumbling;  children  with  great 
sombre  eyes,  like  still  pools  of  ink,  and  the  clear- 
cut  features  of  a  cameo,  but  dirty  and  hilarious  as 
month-old  puppies.  Over  the  stove  at  the  end  of 
the  room  a  woman  of  immense  proportions,  dark 
like  her  children,  but  whose  every  claim  to  beauty 
had  been  routed  by  the  conquering  rolls  of  fat, 
was  frying  frijoles  and  baking  tortillas.  Near 
her,  with  his  chair  tipped  back  against  the  wall,  a 
man  with  a  heavy  beard  and  dark,  kindly  face 
sat  smoking,  and  laughing  at  the  children. 

As  Carmelita  entered  upon  this  scene  of  domes 
tic  if  somewhat  grimy  bliss,  her  aunt  swept  the 
hot  spoon  from  the  frijoles  she  was  stirring  and 
waved  it,  dripping,  in  the  air. 

"  Bueno !  Sefiorita  Carmeiita,"  she  cried,  "  where 
you  been  since  you  leava  the  school?  Nice  girl 
you  are  to  blacka  the  eye  of  Geronimo  Diaz,  and 
no  pay  attention  when  the  teacher  she  spik.  I  no 
giva  you  any  supper  to-night." 

Mariana  had  lived  in  a  small  town  during  her 
youth,  and  with  that  instinct  of  progression  which 


28  LOS   CERRITOS. 

is  latent  in  every  human  breast,  she  always  spoke 
"  English  "  to  her  children. 

"I  no  care,"  said  Carmelita  proudly.  "I  am 
with  the  padre  all  day  and  he  go  to  teacha  me 
himself.  I  no  going  to  the  school  any  more." 

At  this  announcement  Mariana  dropped  her 
spoon  into  the  beans  and  Espinoza  brought  his 
chair  down  with  a  thud  upon  its  front  feet. 

"  Whatte  you  say? "  they  demanded. 

Carmelita  rolled  the  baby  back  and  forth  with 
her  foot.  "  I  go  every  day  to  the  padre  and  he 
teacha  me  out  of  the  books.  By-and-by  I  spik 
English  lika  himself  and  I  reada  the  story-books. 
I  no  spika  to  those  childrens  never  no  more.  The 
padre  he  say  they  are  villaines  and  he  go  to  pun 
ish  them  hard." 

By  this  time  Mariana's  face  had  softened,  it  had 
grown  almost  respectful.  The  padre  is  a  great 
man  in  these  unlettered  settlements,  and  that  he 
should  deign  to  educate  this  wayward  annex  of 
the  Espinoza  household  placed  her  beyond  the 
pale  of  criticism  at  once. 

uBueno,  bueno,"  she  said.  "The  padre  he  is 
right.  They  treating  you  orr<?6jblee  this  morning. 


LOS  CERRITOS.  29 

The  teacher  she  coming  here  and  say  so.  Pedro, 
why  you  no  whippa  those  boys? " 

Espinoza  gave  a  grunt  and  resumed  his  pipe. 

'•'Why  maka  more  troubles?"  he  asked  philo 
sophically.  "The  padre  he  do  it  all  whatte  is 
need ;  he  no  like  si  I  interfere." 

But  Carmelita  had  her  supper. 


30  LOS   CERRITOS. 


III. 

A   BEOAD   DOMAIN. 

THE  Rancho  de  los  Cerritos  was  a  tract  of  land 
covering  some  fifty  thousand  acres.  A  tradition 
existed  that  it  had  once  been  owned  by  a  Mexican 
grandee,  hence  its  possession  of  name  and  bound 
ary  line ;  but  it  had  long  been  known  as  govern 
ment  land  and  taken  up  by  squatters.  The  ground 
was  fertile,  but  after  the  many  mouths  were  fed 
and  the  taxes  paid  there  was  little  to  lay  by,  and 
the  squatter  was  always  poor.  Meat  and  flour 
were  dear,  for  the  nearest  town  \vas  thirty  miles 
away,  and  he  could  not  afford  to  farm  more  than 
a  few  acres  nor  to  raise  cattle  for  killing.  The 
hog  being  prolific  was  not  so  infrequent  a  deli 
cacy,  and  one  or  two  of  the  colony  had  a  band 
of  sheep.  There  is  little  to  spur  the  energies  of 
the  settler  in  these  remote  districts.  Whatever 
involuntary  prompting  of  ambition  may  be  felt  in 
youth  is  soon  narrowed  to  the  successful  raising 


LOS   CERRITOS.  31 

of  a  crop  or  to  compassing  an  occasional  dinner  of 
beef.  The  Cerritos  farmers'  one  idea  of  society 
was  to  meet  occasionally  at  the  Aguitas,  a  half 
way  house  for  the  stages,  and  marking  the  eastern 
boundary  line  of  the  Hancho.  Here  they  would 
drink  and  gossip  and  idle,  with  no  desire  for  any 
thing  better  in  life ;  and  when  unknown  men  came 
to  gamble  their  ill-gotten  gains  it  meant  to  them 
what  a  circus  does  to  a  country  town. 

The  ranch  itself  was  the  very  flower  of  a 
territory  that  might  have  dropped  straight  from 
celestial  hunting-grounds.  Those  fairy -like  hills, 
golden  in  autumn,  in  spring  so  rich  and  so  lavishly 
colored  that  their  dew  drops  surely  held  impris 
oned  the  rainbow's  jeweled  hues,  in  winter  palpi 
tating  with  the  very  joy  of  life  beneath  the  wild 
driving  rains  and  the  shrieking  of  ocean-sent 
storms,  framed  valley  after  valley  of  sweeping 
plains,  and  miniature  forests  and  wild  tangled 
woods  of  chaparral,  fragrant  with  honey-dew  and 
pink  with  riotous  sweet-briar.  In  winter  the  river 
thundered  between  its  high,  willow-grown  banks, 
and  in  summer  swept  to  the  clouds  and  left  a 
hot,  white  floor  sparkling  with  widely  scattered 


32  LOS  CEkRlTO§. 

gold,  and  red,  sharp  garnets.  Far  away  towered 
the  mountains,  like  the  ramparts  about  a  sacred 
park,  but  clothed  in  an  eternal  mist  that  shim 
mered  like  pink  gauze  under  the  passing  sun,  or 
quivered  as  if  a  dim  blue  veil  in  the  hot  morning 
hours,  and  anon  wrapped  itself,  a  gown  of  olive, 
about  its  peaks  and  slopes,  to  fade  under  leaden 
skies  to  a  winding  sheet,  gray  and  chill. 

In  a  wide  valley  peopled  with  flowers  and  cool 
with  spreading  oaks  stood  the  Mission.  The  bel 
fry  was  crumbling  like  the  bones  of  a  time-worn 
skeleton,  but  the  bell  still  hung,  a  defiant, 
haunting  spirit,  and  called  the  people  to  prayer. 
The  rain-beaten,  wind-fought  walls  were  covered 
with  great  blotches  of  red  and  green  and  brown, 
and  the  rude  carving  in  the  long  echoing,  owl- 
inviting  cloisters  was  changed  and  blunted  by  the 
same  inexorable  hand  that  had  laid  those  brave 
old  Jesuit  artists  beneath  the  earth  they  had 
wrought.  Many  a  young  exile  with  hot  heart  be 
neath  his  cassock  had  carved  into  those  yielding 
pillars  the  passionate  poem  of  his  buried  man 
hood  ;  many  a  stern-faced,  gray -haired  priest  had 
cut  the  unconscious  hope  of  heavenly  compensa- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  33 

tion.     But  restless  youth  and  stolid  age  are  dead 
alike,  and  about  their  sculptured  stories  the  owls 
hoot,  and  the  bats  sweep,  like  the  lost  souls  the 
fathers  prayed  for. 
3 


34  LOS  CERRITOS. 


IV. 

THE   PRIEST   AKD   THE   GIEL. 

CAKMELITA  went  every  day  to  the  padre  and 
her  bright  little  mind  unfolded  very  rapidly ;  too 
rapidly,  the  padre  thought,  and  he  soon  limited 
her  lessons  to  an  hour  a  day.  This  child,  with 
the  latent  instinct  of  caste,  the  germs  of  a  high 
intelligence,  inherited  from  a  lonely,  studious 
mother,  yet  forever  the  victim  of  a  sordid,  squalor- 
ous  environment,  must  not  be  educated  into 
knowledge  of  herself  and  taught  to  hate  the  lot 
wherein  the  strange,  unyielding  law  of  circum 
stance  had  led  her.  "  I  will  teach  her  to  read,  that 
she  may  amuse  herself  on  the  winter  days  when 
the  rains  sweep  and  the  ground  is  soft,"  said  the 
priest  to  himself.  "  I  will  teach  her  to  count  that 
she  may  nt>t  be  cheated  out  of  her  little  store 
when  she  buys  the  rags  she  wears,  and  I  will  teach 
her  to  write  that  she  may  not  be  more  ignorant 
than  her  cousins  who  go  to  the  school.  But  more 


LOS  CERRITOS.  35 

she  must  never  know,  and  her  books  shall  be  of 
the  simplest,  and  least  imaginative." 

The  children  of  the  settlement  molested  her  no 
further.  Their  awe  of  the  padre  was  too  great,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  they  respected  the 
skill  with  which  she  had  used  her  fists.  When 
she  was  fifteen  she  began  to  show  signs  of  beauty, 
and  when  she  had  passed  her  seventeenth  birth 
day  the  question  was  beyond  dispute.  Her  face 
was  more  square  than  oval,  but  the  eyes  were  no 
longer  too  large  for  it,  and  the  tints  were  brown 
and  warm ;  her  full  red  mouth  had  taken  decided 
but  symmetrical  curves,  and  her  profile  had  the 
fine,  clear  line  of  her  Spanish  ancestors.  She  was 
above  the  height  of  most  women,  but  she  carried 
herself  with  the  lithe,  untramelled  poise  of  a  sap 
ling  that  is  swayed  by  every  breeze.  Of  her  beauty 
she  was  as  unaware  as  of  the  distant  but  ardent 
admiration  of  the  young  vaqueros  and  rancheros 
who  caught  an  occasional  glimpse  of  her.  And 
their  opportunities  wrere  few,  nor  were  they  ever 
honored  by  so  much  as  a  passing  glance.  Espino- 
za's  hacienda  was  at  the  foot  of  the  ranch,  miles 
away  from  the  other  farmers,  and  when  visitors 


3$  LOS  CERRITOS. 

did  come  they  rarely  saw  Carmelita.  She  was 
always  with  the  padre,  or  in  the  woods — lying  in 
dolently  under  the  trees,  or  reading  the  few  books 
—simple  tales  from  the  Bible  or  natural  history, 
or  lives  of  sa\nts— that  the  priest  had  given  her. 

One  hot  simmer's  day  when  the  earth  was 
parched  and  the  sun  shone  like  a  polished  brazen 
ball  through  the  stagnant  air,  the  padre  and  Car 
melita  were  sitting  in  the  dark  shadows  of  the 
Mission's  cloister.  Between  two  of  the  pillars 
hung  a  wet  blanket  and  on  the  table  were  the  re 
mains  of  a  magnificent  watermelon.  The  padre 
no  longer  taught  Carmelita,  but  he  was  her  only 
friend  and  she  demanded  a  daily  hour  of  his 
time.  The  little  familiarities  of  her  childhood 
were  hardly  a  memory  now.  With  all  her  affec 
tion  for  him,  and  longing  for  some  object  upon 
which  to  expend  her  eager,  unsatisfied  nature,  she 
never  could  pass  the  iron  wall  of  this  man's  re 
serve.  Whatever  his  experience  of  life  had  been, 
before  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  world,  it  had 
made  all  demonstrations  repugnant  to  him,  and 
dried  his  youth  forever.  Carmelita  was  probably 
the  one  human  b^'ng  in  whom  he  felt  a  personal 


LOS   CERRITOS.  37 

interest,  and  with  what  affection  was  left  in  him  he 
loved  her;  but  he  was  ever  the  priest  and  she  the 
pupil ;  he  the  man  done  with  life  and  she  the  child 
who  would  never  know  it.  But  he  encouraged 
her  to  confide  in  him,  and  every  leaf  of  her  devel 
oping  mind  he  had  turned  with  his  own  hand, 
every  petal  of  her  spirit's  flower  he  had  watched 
unfold.  The  last  seven  years  had  changed  him 
little.  A  few  more  gray  threads  were  in  his  hair, 
his  eyes  were  sterner  and  the  line  of  his  mouth 
was  nearly  straight.  He  labored  almost  fanatically 
in  his  ignorant,  indifferent  parish ;  he  had  vespers 
every  evening  and  mass  on  Sundays,  and  twice  a 
month  he  preached  a  little  sermon.  He  could  not 
flatter  himself  that  he  had  made  much  progress, 
but  until  civilization  reached  these  stranded  ones 
it  could  hardly  be  otherwise.  And  at  least  they 
respected  him;  his  word  was  ]aw. 

Carmelita,  who  had  been  standing  at  the  edge 
of  the  cloister,  eating  her  last  slice  of  watermelon, 
threw  the  rind  among  the  reeds  of  the  patio,  and 
seated  herself  on  a  box  opposite  the  priest. 

"  Padre  mio,"  she  said,  with  her  usual  direct 
ness,  "  are  there  trees  on  the  mountain  tall  as  fifty 


38  LOS  CERRITOS. 

men  like  Carlos  Castro  si  each  were  stand  on  the 
other's  head?" 

"  You  mean  the  redwoods.  Yes,  there  are  many 
three  hundred  feet  high." 

"I  no  believe  Juan,  who  got  here  the  other 
day;  but  si  you  say  so,  I  do.  The  mountain  is 
fifteen  miles  away  and  I  never  have  go  so  far. 
But  to-morrow  morning  I  get  up  early  and  go.  It 
is  so  hard  steal  that  mustang,"  she  added  with 
a  plaintive  sigh.  "Tio  Pedro  and  Juan  they  use 
all  the  time.  But  I  have  him  to-morrow." 

The  padre  smiled.  Carmelita  was  the  soul  of 
honesty,  and  tractable  in  most  respects,  but  she 
would  steal  the  mustang,  and  many  a  ringing  in 
vective  had  her  uncle  and  cousin  sent  after  her, 
when  business  called  them  to  another  part  of  the 
ranch  and  they  found  their  solitary  steed  had  dis 
appeared.  But  Carmelita  was  a  privileged  char 
acter  and  the  wrath  was  usually  expended  be 
fore  her  return.  The  padre,  however,  always  felt 
it  his  duty  to  take  her  to  task. 

"  That  will  be  the  third  time  you  have  stolen 
the  mustang  this  month,"  he  said,  "  and  it  is  only 
the  8th.  I  shall  lay  a  heavier  penance  on  you,  if 


LOS   CERRITOS.  39 

you  do  not  obey  better  your  commandments. 
Why  not  ask  your  uncle  for  the  mustang  to-mor 
row?  I  am  sure  he  would  let  you  have  it." 

"  No;  no,  I  no  ask.  He  always  say  he  need.  I 
have  ask,  and  it  do  no  good,  so  now  I  take,  and 
that  save  much  trouble.  Besides,  I  no  like  ask 
the  permission.  I  like  better  do  the  penance." 

She  rose  and  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the 
cloister.  In  spite  of  her  litheness  there  was  much 
of  the  Spanish  gravity  and  dignity  in  her  car 
riage,  and  in  her  eyes  sombre  clouds  seemed  to 
hang  protectingly  above  the  slowly  burning  lires, 
deeply  buried. 

"Padre  mio,"  she  said  presently,  " I  have  some 
thing  I  like  say  to  you — to  ask  you." 

"Yery  well,  my  child.  But  remember  I  have 
told  you  to  guard  yourself  against  curiosity.  I 
have  told  you  that  there  are  reasons  why  it  is 
better  you  should  know  little." 

"  I  know,  but  that  no  take  the  curiosity  away, 
and  si  you  no  tell  I  think  all  the  same,  so  much 
better  you  tell— no?  padre  mio." 

The  padre  laughed.  "Ask  your  questions,  and 
if  it  is  well  I  will  answer." 


4O  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  I  want  know  this,"  she  said  in  the  same  even 
tones,  although  a  hotter  red  had  come  into  her 
face,  "what  ouside  this  ranch?"  Is  all  like  this 
—thousands  acres,  hundreds  trees,  one  man  here, 
and  another  far?  No  are  no  mens  in  that  world 
you  have  on  the  map  who  do  something  but 
ride  and  farm  and  sleep  and  eat?  No  are  womens 
somewhere  who  do  something  but  cook  and  patch 
and  have  the  babies?  No  is  there  place  where 
peoples  have  something  else  but  to  work  and  feel 
tire  out?  Padre  mio,  all  my  life  I  see  no  more, 
but  something  tell  me — and  many,  many  times  it 
tell  me — that  far  off,  but  on  tills  earth,  there  is 
somethings  better.  What  it  is,  /  want  it.  It  is 
si  I  had  something  in  me  that  no  one  want.  You 
no  want  it;  Tia  Mariana  no  want  it,  but  it  never 
go  away,  and  many  times  I  no  am  happy  at  all." 

There  was  a  proud  dignity  in  her  tones  which 
took  the  pathos  from  her  words.  Nevertheless 
the  padre  turned  his  head  uneasily  from  her  and 
pressed  his  lips  together. 

"  You  will  never  find  it,"  he  said ;  "  put  that  idea 
from  you." 

She  stood  before  him,  compelling  him  to  look 


LOS   CERRITOS.  41 

at  her.  "What  it  is  I  want?"  she  demanded 
abruptly.  "  Tell  me." 

The  padre  drew  a  quick  breath.  For  the  first 
time  he  felt  that  the  girl  was  slipping  by  him  into 
a  realm  where  the  influence  of  priest  or  friend 
would  be  of  small  avail.  He  had  known  many 
women,  before  he  donned  the  cassock,  but  they 
had  required  no  help  in  discovering  their  own 
natures  and  the  needs  thereof. 

"  Give  it  no  thought,"  he  said  sternly.  "  How 
can  I  tell  what  you  want?  Think  not  of  what  you 
cannot  have.  It  is  sin." 

"  It  no  is  sin  to  feel  what  we  no  can  help,"  re 
plied  the  girl  in  the  same  calm  tones;  but  the 
priest  knew  the  pride  of  her  nature  and  her  powrer 
of  self-control.  "  We  no  make  ourselfs.  I  no  can 
help  this  in  me.  It  never  sleep  by  day  or  night. 
I  no  know  what  it  is,  but  I  know  it  no  is  wrong, 
or  else  God  is  wrong  for  make  me  have.  And  I 
draw  my  breath  quick — quick— and  want  to  fly ! 
fly !  fly !  What  I  want,  is  high,  far  above.  And 
heaven  is  above  and  hell  below,  my  father.  It  no 
is  heaven  I  want,  but  something  on  this  earth 
while  I  am  like  I  am  now,  but  it  must  be  near  to 


42  LOS   CERRITOS. 

there;   I  stretch  my  arms  always  up.    But  I  stay 
below  and  it  is  hell." 

The  padre  regarded  her  with  momentary  enthu 
siasm.  "Yes;  you  would  always  fly  upward;  but 
you  will  never  find  your  wings." 

"  Why  will  I  no  find  them,"  a  hoarse  note  came 
into  her  voice,  and  a  flame  of  angry  protest  sprang 
from  the  depths  of  her  eyes.  "No  one  in  the 
world  beyond  the  mountains  find  them?  You 
say  millions  of  people  there  are  in  those  lands  on 
the  map.  They  all  go  on,  on  forever,  living  in 
adobe  huts,  lonely,  half -make,  like  myself;  no 
any,"  she  opened  her  arms  wide,  "who — who— 
have — for  one  moment — something  in  here? "  and 
she  crossed  her  arms  and  drew  them  slowly  to  her 
breast,  pressing  her  palms  against  her  shoulders 
with  the  passion  she  had  kept  from  her  voice. 

The  priest  stood  up,  and  the  man  whose  fair  in 
heritance  had  withered  and  parched  looked  into 
the  eyes  of  the  woman  who  was  stumbling  through 
the  riotous  forests  of  unslaked  youth. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  u  sometimes — for  a  single — 
he  paused  abruptly.     Of  what  use  to  talk  the 
platitudes  of  the  world  and  of  philosophy  to  this 


LOS   CERRITOS.  43 

primitive  girl?  She  would  laugh  in  his  face.  "I 
cannot  make  a  map  of  human  nature  for  you,"  he 
said  after  a  moment.  "  If  the  chance  ever  comes, 
you  will  draw  it  for  yourself;  if  not,  mine  would 
be  so  many  unknown  figures  to  you.  But  I  will 
tell  you  one  thing  that  has  often  occurred  to  me, 
Carmelita.  Some  day  you  may  learn  that  the 
curse  of  human  nature  is  imagination.  When  a 
long  anticipated  moment  comes,  we  always  find  it 
pitched  a  note  too  low,  for  the  wings  of  imagina 
tion  are  crushed  into  its  withering  sides  under  the 
crowding  hordes  of  petty  realities.  But  it  is  this 
alien  and  tyrannical  force  which  gives  me  my 
firmest  belief  in  another  life.  From  whence  im 
agination  came,  God  alone  can  tell ;  but  back  to 
its  jewel-pillared  city  it  must  go  at  last.  It  battles 
against  its  bars  down  here,  ever  straining  upward 
to  higher  conditions,  and  somewhere,  some  time,  it 
'must  rind  them.  Until  the  body  stiffens  it  cannot 
—but  then  it  must  wing  its  way  upward  and  give 
to  that  spirit  it  now  torments  all  that  has  been 
flashed  before  his  gaze  on  earth.  I  have  given 
you  but  a  hint  of  my  meaning,  but  some  day  you 


44  LOS   CERRITOS. 

may  understand  more  clearly — although  the  pos 
sibility  is  remote  enough,  heaven  knows." 

He  turned  from  her  and  walked  slowly  up  and 
down  the  cloister.  Carmelita  stood  where  he  had 
left  her,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  sunken  stones  of 
the  floor.  His  words  had  given  her  no  comfort. 
With  youth  beating  in  every  ardent  pulse,  the 
compensation  of  the  hereafter  was  no  requital  to 
her.  She  shivered  as  if  the  sun  had  suddenly 
fallen  to  ashes.  Sixty  years  of  nothingness,  per 
haps,  between! 

The  padre  stood  before  her  once  more.  "A  verse 
comes  to  me  which  was  written  by  a  blind  poet 
on  the  death  of  a  friend,  who,  possessed  of  great 
genius,  died  in  his  early  youth.  Take  it  to  heart, 
Carmelita,  for  he  might  have  written  it  for  you : 

"  '  Oh,  men  and  women,  listen  and  be  wise, 

Refrain  from  love  and  friendship,  dwell  alone, 
Having  for  friends  and  loves,  the  seas,  the  skies, 

And  the  fair  land,  for  these  are  still  your  own. 
The  sun  is  yours,  the  moon  and  stars  are  yours, 

For  you  the  great  sea  changes  and  endures, 
And  every  year  the  spring  returns  and  lures  : 

I  pray  you  only  love  what  never  dies.' 

"  You  are  nature's  best-beloved  child ;  she  will 
always  take  you  to  her  heart.  Go  to  your  flowers 


LOS  CERRITOS.  45 

and  birds  and  trees.  They  may  not  satisfy  you, 
but  at  least  they  will  bring  you  no  unhappiness. 
Forget  yourself.  There  is  no  hope  for  you  here, 
Carmelita,  and  beyond  this  ranch  you  will  never 
go.  Stifle  the  desire  and  save  yourself  misery. 
Stifle  your  own  nature  if  you  can,  or  rich,  grand, 
complete  as  it  is,  it  will  be  your  scourge." 


46  LOS   CERRITOS. 


V. 

A   CHILD    OF   NATURE. 

THE  padre  liad  known  whereof  lie  spoke  when 
he  had  said  that  Carmelita  was  Nature's  own 
child.  She  would  lie  on  the  ground  for  hours 
among  the  wild  flowers,  fancying  she  could  see 
them  grow,  and,  although  she  had  never  heard  of 
a  fairy,  transforming  them  into  tiny  beings  who 
murmured  to  her  of  the  wondrous  lands  beneath 
the  earth  from  whence  they  came.  The  ball  gar 
ments  they  wore  were  stored  away  in  chests  of 
garnet,  lidded  with  gold,  during  the  winter,  they 
told  her;  and  if  she  would  put  on  a  squirrel's 
coat  and  scamper  down  the  long,  ever-descending 
galleries  of  the  earth,  by-and-by  she  would  come 
to  a  vast  room  with  a  dome  like  the  arching  sky, 
and  on  a  great  glittering,  flower -tinted  throne  she 
would  see  a  woman  whom  the  world  called  Nature. 
About  the  woman's  cloud-white  body  flowed  a 
shimmering  gown,  green  as  the  grasses  on  her 


LOS   CERRITOS.  47 

hills;  her  hair  glistened  with  the  greenish  gold 
of  corn  silk,  and  her  eyes  were  stars  steeped  in 
the  blue  waters  of  the  sky.  Above  her  throne 
was  a  choir  room  cut  deep  into  the  blue  of  the 
arch,  wherein  sang  eternally  the  souls  of  earth's 
dead  birds.  About  her,  when  the  ground  above 
was  parched  or  wet,  thronged  the  flowers  in  gowns 
the  sun  had  never  seen;  but  in  spring  she  sat 
alone,  her  body  languid  and  restful,  her  soul 
stilled  by  the  music  of  that  joyous  choir  and  the 
deep  chanting  of  the  fiery  ocean  that  beat  against 
her  cool,  granite  walls. 

That  the  living  birds  had  a  language  of  their 
own,  Carmelita  never  doubted,  and  she  knew  it  as 
well  as  her  own.  When  the  voices  were  shrill, 
the  lord  of  the  nest  was  scolding,  and  to  the  alter 
cation  which  followed  she  would  listen  breath 
lessly,  her  hands  on  her  hips,  her  head  thrown 
back,  her  eyes  darkening  and  softening  in  swift 
sympathy  and  indignation.  In  the  spring  time, 
when  the  voices  were  wooing  and  soft,  she  would 
lie  all  night  on  the  ground,  her  face  pressed  to 
some  many-nested  tree,  her  loneliness  for  the  mo 
ment  forgot.  She  waited  eagerly  for  the  autumn, 


48  LOS  CERRITOS. 

when  the  birds  grew  reminiscent  in  idle  hours; 
and  lying  in  the  parched  grasses  she  listened  to 
their  tales  of  far-off  lands  where  flowers  were  as 
tall  as  trees,  and  birds  dressed  in  robes  torn 
from  summer  roses,  where  tawny  beasts  crouched 
by  moon-lit,  reeded  shores,  and  men  and  women 
made  the  very  stars  sing  anthems  to  their  beauty. 
But  above  all  things  speaking  and  silent,  Car- 
melita  loved  the  trees  and  longed  for  those  forests 

of  which  the  books  told  and  the  birds  sang.     The 

'** 

woods  on  the  rancho  were  small,  and  although  the 
willows  by  the  river  were  beautiful  in  their  droop 
ing  grace  and  rhythmic  response  to  the  passing 
wind,  there  were  no  mysterious  depths  in  their 
twining  groves,  no  solemnity  nor  uncounted  num 
bers.  Carmelita  was  too  ignorant  to  formulate 
this  want,  but  her  nature  dumbly  demanded 
responding  grandeur.  Now  she  had  heard  of  a 
magnificent  forest  on  the  mountain!  Why  had 
she  never  heard  of  it  before?  But  she  had  no 
companions  to  bring  tales  of  discovery,  and  Juan 
had  found  it  but  a  few  days  ago. 

She  awoke  before  dawn  the  next  morning,  and 
slipped  out  with  no  pang  for  neglected  duties. 


LOS  CERRITOS.  49 

In  those  adobe  mansions  the  occasional  chair  and 
the  mutual  bed  are  quickly  dusted  and  smoothed, 
the  clay  floor  demands  little  of  the  infrequent 
broom,  and  the  open  doors  of  summer  give  the 
window  panes  a  long  and  stifled  sleep.  Mariana 
cooked  for  the  family,  and  her  two  eldest  daugh 
ters  kept  the  house  in  order.  Until  three  years  ago 
a  mysterious  packet  of  money  had  arrived  at  reg 
ular  intervals  for  Carmelita.  This  she  had  unhesi 
tatingly  turned  into  the  common  fund,  and  been 
treated  as  something  of  a  guest  in  consequence. 
Then  had  come  the  report  that  one  Harry  Love 
had  carried  the  head  of  Joaquin  Murietta  to  the 
government,  obtaining  the  long-promised  reward. 
After  that  no  more  money  came  for  Carmelita, 
but  the  habit  of  her  independence  was  fixed,  and 
no  one  in  that  good-natured  Espinoza  household 
ever  thought  of  altering  her  position.  Perhaps  it 
would  have  been  better  for  her  had  the  long  hours 
been  filled  with  regularly  recurring  duties.  One 
care  she  invariably  assumed.  There  was  always 
a  baby,  and  until  it  was  a  year  old  it  slept  with 
her  in  the  little  porch  room  she  had  always  in 
sisted  upon  having  to  herself.  So  long  as  its 
4 


50  LOS   CERRITOS. 

small  tongue  could  shape  no  words  slie  might  im 
agine  that  the  child  was  her  own;  and  although 
it  might  lacerate  the  very  ears  of  night,  it  gave 
her  a  sense  of  warmth  and  human  nearness,  and 
she  never  grudged  her  broken  rest.  The  present 
baby  was  now  old  enough  to  address  its  parents 
with  something  like  discrimination,  and  as  the 
next  had  not  yet  arrived,  Carmelita  was  lonely. 

She  walked  softly  across  the  porch  and  break 
ing  a  bunch  of  grapes  from  its  vine  made  a  rapid 
breakfast.  Far  away  lay  the  mountains,  cold  and 
stern  as  unhewn  rock  in  the  sunless  light.  But 
Carmelita  looked  at  them  with  a  smile.  There  at 
last  lay  a  new  world! 

Unable  to  control  her  impatience  longer  she 
flung  away  the  bunch  of  grapes,  half  eaten,  and 
ran  to  the  corral.  The  mustang  raised  his  head 
in  surprise  when  she  entered,  but  was  docile  at 
her  touch.  He  had  the  lawless  spirit  of  his  coun 
try  and  loved  better  the  hand  that  took  him  into 
devious  ways  than  the  one  which  drove  him 
along  the  stern  path  of  duty.  Carmelita  had  no 
saddle,  but  she  was  above  such  petty  considera 
tions,  and  springing  upon  the  spirited  little  ani- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  51 

mal's  back,  clasped  his  flanks  with  her  strong 
young  legs  and  fle\v  out  of  the  corral  and  over  the 
fields  toward  the  mountain. 

The  ride  was  a  long  one,  and  led  over  many  a 
hill ;  but  with  that  deep  blue  curtain  ever  before 
her,  quivering  in  the  rising  sun,  the  miles  ran 
backward  from  the  mustang's  feet.  Carmelita 
half  expected  to  raise  that  curtain  with  her  hand, 
and,  slipping  beneath  it,  find  herself  in  a  waveless 
sea  of  blue ;  but  as  she  neared  the  mountain  the 
mist  faded  and  vanished  like  the  scent  of  a  flower 
too  long  inhaled.  She  flung  not  a  sigh  in  its 
wake,  for  where  the  mist  had  been,  giant  trees 
loomed ;  cold,  stern,  glorious,  majestic,  like  a  vast 
army  awaiting  the  word  of  command.  Carmelita 
had  been  taught  to  cross  herself  when  she  passed 
the  Mission,  or  an  inclosure  for  the  dead,  and 
now  with  a  quick  involuntary  motion,  born  of  no 
teaching*,  she  made  a  rapid  sign  on  her  forehead 
as  she  stood  in  the  presence  of  Nature's  supremest 
achievement.  Breathless,  awestruck,  she  ascended 
the  mountain  trail  through  a  long,  dusky,  wind 
ing  avenue  of  stately  redwoods  and  fragrant  pines. 
The  great  unbending  branches  of  trees  that  might 


52  LOS   CERRITOS. 

have  withstood  all  convulsions  of  Nature  and 
come  down  from  a  mammoth  age,  stretched  out 
like  mighty  arms,  so  high  above  that  the  tall 
oaks'  crests  scarce  touched  them,  so  thick  that 
they  threw  the  road -beneath  into  the  cold  gloom 
of  a  winter's  twilight.  Above  the  crowding  sap 
lings,  which  grew  between  the  parent  trees,  Car- 
melita  could  see  the  towering  masses  of  moun 
tains  catching  green  patches  of  light  from  the  un 
seen  sun.  She  rode  past  sudden  chasms  with 
long  shadows  on  their  slopes,  and  by  serpentine 
ravines  with  their  ever-dwelling  dusk.  The  day 
was  hot  beyond  the  forest,  but  so  deep  was  the 
shade  beneath  the  interlacing  branches  that  in 
these  depths  spring  waited  for  winter  and  summer 
never  came.  It  was  wonderfully  still,  not  a  bird 
sang.  Once  a  deer  rustled  through  the  thicket, 
but  that  was  all.  The  sound  died  as  quickly  as 
it  had  come,  and  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  could 
ever  break  that  calm  again.  They  are  so  tall,  those 
redwoods,  so  straight,  so  still,  they  suggest  an  ab 
solute  dominion  over  man  and  beast,  awing  them 
into  their  own  eternal  repose.  When  storms  howl 
about  them  their  trunks  never  bend,  only  their 


LOS   CERRITOS.  53 

topmost,  slenderest  branches  creak  one  upon  the 
other  in  rhythmic  protest  against  the  element's 
discontent.  When  fire  rages  through  them  it 
eats  out  their  hearts,  but  the  charred  trunks  stand 
forever,  haughtily  defiant.  Sometimes  there  is  a 
wash-out  on  the  mountain  side  and  then  the  earth 
gives  way,  the  great,  sturdy,  deeply-striking  roots 
are  left  without  a  pebble  to  cling  to,  and  the 
mighty  tree  moves,  groans,  sways,  and  slides  down 
the  mountain.  But  not  far.  Soon  he  overtakes 
a  brother  whose  roots  are  beyond  the  first  force 
of  the  moving  earth,  and,  resting  against  him,  he 
thrusts  his  feet  into  the  soil  once  more  and  re 
mains  in  his  oblique  position  for  centuries  to  come. 
Carmelita  slid  from  her  mustang  and  tethered 
him  to  a  sapling,  then  stood  for  a  few  moments 
with  her  hands  at  her  temples,  her  glance  roving 
about  and  above.  Between  the  trees  the  earth 
was  thick  with  green  and  golden  moss,  yellow 
violets,  and  clusters  of  lapis-lazuli-like  beads — the 
seeds  of  some  wild  mountain  lily — close  carpets  of 
sorrel,  springing  beneath  the  riotous  brush  and  the 
moveless  tree-roof  above.  On  one  side  of  the  trail, 
sloping  down  into  darkness,  was  a  gorge  of  many 


54  LOS   CERRITOS. 

platforms.  Young  redwoods  flourished  rankly  in 
it,  fed  by  the  rotting  trunks  of  fallen  pines.  Be 
low  their  bright  green  leaves,  and  amidst  the  fox 
tails'  waving  tufts,  were  beds  of  scarlet  lilies  sway 
ing  on  slender  stalks.  Beyond,  the  creek  murmured 
an  accompaniment  to  the  vibrating  calm. 

Carmelita  turned,  almost  mechanically,  and 
looked  behind  her.  The  forest  spread  down — 
down.  The  Rancho  de  los  Cerritos  was  as  if  it 
had  never  been.  She  sank  on  one  knee  and  gazed 
long  at  the  grave,  noble,  colossal  trees,  with  their 
strange,  insistent  personality.  Were  they  a  race 
of  mighty,  forgotten  men,  who  once  had  ruled  the 
world  and  for  great  deeds  been  indured  to  trees 
that  they  might  stand  forever?  Carmelita,  her 
hand  pressed  against  the  earth,  moved  slowly 
until  her  face  was  near  the  gray  bark  of  one  who 
might  have  been  the  Emperor  in  this  forest  of 
Kings.  She  raised  her  hands  and  slid  them  gen 
tly  up  the  trunk.  For  a  moment  she  experienced 
a  sense  of  profound  peace  and  content;  the  won 
derful  calm  and  strength  of  the  tree  seemed  to 
promise  her  everlasting  protection  and  help. 
Then,  suddenly,  a  rapturous  cry  broke  from  her 


LOS   CERRITOS.  55 

and  she  flung  herself  headlong  on  the  ground  her 
hand  pressing  itself  convulsively  against  the  tree. 

"  It  lives !  it  lives !  "  she  cried.  "  It  lives  and  it 
loves  me!  I  no  more  am  alone.  No  more!  No 
more !  no  more ! "  She  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
placing  her  two  palms  against  the  trunk  pressed 
her  lips  to  the  bark.  "  Some  day  thou  wilt 
speak  to  me,  0  my  lover!  "  she  murmured  in 
her  soft  mother  tongue.  "  Some  day  thy  heart 
will  beat  and  I  will  hear  it.  Some  day  thy  great 
strong  arms  will  bend  down  and  clasp  me  to  thee." 
She  pressed  her  face  close  to  the  tree.  u  I  Jcnow 
it  lives,"  she  whispered.  "Almost,  almost  I  feel 
that  what  I  wept  for  I  have.  Something  has  come 
to  my  heart  and  my  soul.  The  padre  said  I  should 
never  find  it,  but  he  knew  not  of  this  forest  where 
trees  are  more  real  than  the  men  of  the  farms 
below.  He  knew  not  of  the  lover  who  has  waited 
for  me  here  since  the  world  began."  She  looked 
up  to  the  firm  straight  arms  that  spread  above  her. 
"  Some  day  I  shall  find  my  wings,"  she  whispered. 

And  the  redwood  moved  not,  but  towered 
above  her  in  grand,  invincible  strength  and  Car- 
melita  was  content. 


56  LOS   CERRITOS. 

The  sun  swept  slowly  to  zenith  and  onward. 
It  reached  the  mountain,  quivered  for  a  brief 
while  in  a  bath  of  amber,  then  plunged  to  its  rest. 
But  still  Carmelita  sat  with  her  cheek  pressed  to 
her  redwood  lover,  murmuring  to  him  of  her 
lonely  life,  of  her  mother's  fate,  of  her  loved  and 
murdered  father,  of  her  longings  and  desires. 
Once,  she  left  him  for  a  moment  to  catch  the  sun's 
farewell  where  the  creek  parted  the  forest.  She 
pushed  her  way  through  the  fragrant  under 
growth  and  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  precipitous 
bluff,  overhanging  the  creek.  On  the  low,  oppo 
site  bank  was  a  tangle  of  strange  grasses,  feathery 
and  slender,  brilliant  and  dim,  redwoods  young 
and  delicate,  massive  and  immeasurable,  their 
gray  bark  changed  to  silver  in  the  sun's  level  rays. 
Now  the  groves  were  dark  and  sombrous,  noAv 
light  and  quivering  as  the  sunlight  fell  in  patches 
on  the  fallen  trees.  The  polished,  dusky  green  of 
the  elderberry  trailed  its  broad  shadows  over  the 
waters,  and  the  red  lilies  reared  their  flaunting 
heads  above  the  swarming  ferns.  In  the  tree  tops 
was  a  flood  of  golden  ether;  then  the  sun  fled  to 
the  ocean  and  twilight  had  come. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  57 

"It  is  all  mine,"  cried  Carmelita  exultingly. 
Then  she  turned  to  her  tree  with  arms  out 
stretched.  "Thine  and  mine,"  she  cried  again, 
"  and  no  man  can  take  them  away." 

That  night  she  made  no  confidence  to  the  priest. 
If  she  had  found  a  lover  whose  arms  were  com 
pelling,  her  secret  could  not  have  been  sweeter. 


58  LOS   CERRITOS. 


VI. 

A  DANGEKOUS   SUITOE. 

CARMELITA  descended  the  ladder  and  running 
up  the  path  a  few  yards  surveyed  her  work.  It 
was  her  uncle's  birthday  and  she  had  decorated 
the  house  in  his  honor.  Secured  by  invisible 
cords  on  the  corners  of  the  projecting  roof  were 
huge  yellow  squashes,  bright  green  gourds, 
bunches  of  white  corn  in  pale  green  sheaths  and 
waving  silk.  Festooned  everywhere,  were  long 
ropes  of  scarlet  peppers.  The  willows  behind  the 
house  trailed  over  the  dull  red  tiles  of  the  roof, 
the  storm-painted  walls  made  a  rich  background 
for  bunches  of  ferns  and  young  limbs  of  oak, 
which  Carmelita  had  nailed  here  and  there  with 
the  hand  of  an  unconscious  artist.  She  loved 
color  with  all  the  sensuous  ardor  of  a  nature, 
steeped  from  birth  in  the  riotous  hues  of  the  most 
gloriously  colored  country  two  hemispheres  can 
show.  She  put  her  hands  on  her  hips  and  turned 


LOS   CERRITOS.  59 

her  head  from  side  to  side,  a  smile  -on  her  mouth. 
She  was  satisfied  with  her  work  and  beckoned 
to  her  uncle  to  come  forth  from  the  living  room, 
whence  he  had  been  relegated  with  orders  to  re 
main  until  the  picture  was  complete. 

He  came  out  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and 
looked  at  his  transformed  and  glowing  mansion 
for  a  few  moments,  then  turned  and  patted  Car- 
melita  on  the  head. 

"  Muy  bonita,  muy  bonita,"  he  said  approvingly, 
although  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  see  why 
it  had  not  looked  as  well  before.  "Thou  art  a 
good  child  to  take  so  much  troubles.  Give  to 
me  a  kiss,  chiquita." 

Carmelita  gave  him  a  hearty  kiss  on  his  bearded 
cheek.  Her  uncle  was  not  very  companionable, 
but  he  was  a  kind  and  straight-forward  soul  and 
she  loved  him.  Suddenly  she  frowned  and  dropped 
her  arms.  The  willows  on  the  bank  had  parted 
and  a  man  was  coming  toward  them.  Her  first 
impulse  was  to  run  into  the  house,  but  she  changed 
her  mind  and  awaited  his  approach  with  a  haughty 
disdain  calculated  to  crush  boor  or  prince. 

Carlos  Castro  was  the  one  man  on  the  Cerritos 


60  LOS   CERRITOS. 

Rancho  for  whom  Carmelita  had  an  active  hatred. 
An  immense,  hairy,  muscular  brute,  he  was  the 
greatest  villain  in  three  counties.     Every  year  he 
was  arrested  for  horse  stealing,  but  so  popular 
was  he  that  his  neighbors  invariably  swore  him 
out.     His  domineering  temper  and  brute  force, 
added  to  a  certain  rude  magnetism,  born  of  his 
enormous    vitality,    won  from  his  comrades  an 
adoration  little  short  of  idolatry.     Adjoining  the 
Cerritos  Rancho  were  large  tracts  of  land  owned 
by  wealthy  men  for  the  purpose  of  cattle  raising, 
and  on  the  largest  of  these  Castro  was  vaquero  in 
chief.    No  one  could  fling  the  lasso  with  such  a 
wrist  of  flexile  steel ;  no  one  sweep  the  cattle  more 
quickly  into    bands.      Every  animal    knew   his 
harsh,  imperious  shout  and  ran  from  him.    Every 
under- vaquero  obeyed  his  lightest  word  as  if  he 
were  an  arbiter  of  life  and  death.    In  consequence, 
and  in  spite  of  his  propensity  for  thieving,  he 
commanded  high  wages,  and  he  spent  his  money 
with  a  lavish  hand.     Another  secret  of  his  power 
lay  in  his  ability  tv  r  fnploy  his  own  vaqueros,  and 
he  only  chose  the  young  men  who  were  willing  to 
blindly  follow  his  lead.    Few  of  his  associates 


LOS   CERRITOS.  6l 

preferred  farming  their  father's  small  acres  to  gal 
loping  over  level  miles  after  wayward  cattle,  and 
Castro's  sceptre  was  rarely  questioned. 

Ever  since  Carmelita's  childhood  this  man  had 
annoyed  her  with  an  open  and  persistent  admira 
tion.  He  began  by  following  her  home  from  her 
daily  lessons,  and  when  the  padre — the  only  liv 
ing  man  whom  he  respected — had  peremptorily 
ordered  him  to  desist,  he  had  adopted  Juan  Espi- 
noza  as  his  boon  companion.  After  that  he  was  at 
the  house  nearly  every  evening,  but  it  is  doubt 
ful  if  he  had  ever  exchanged  two  consecutive 
sentences  with  Carmelita.  She  openly  refused  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  him,  and  her  frank 
abhorrence  polished  the  point  of  his  ardor. 

He  strode  toward  her,  his  small  eyes  glowing 
with  a  dull  fire  like  deeply  seated  lava  that 
awaits  the  moment  of  upheaval,  his  square,  bony 
face  slowly  reddening  beneath  the  hair  that  grew 
from  eyes  to  throat,  his  great  jaws  working  after 
his  habit  when  excited.  As  he  reached  the  girl, 
who  now  stood  alone — her  uncle  having  returned 
to  the  house,  thankful  that  his  duty  was  over — 
and  received  no  response  to  his  "How  you?"  his 


62  LOS   CERRITOS. 

eyes  involuntarily  followed  her  own  and  rested 
upon  the  fantastic  result  of  her  morning's  work. 

The  blood,  thick  and  hot,  swelled  to  his  face 
and  thundered  in  his  ears. 

"  Whatte  is  that? "  he  cried  in  his  hoarse,  fierce 
voice.  "  Why  you  maka  that?  You  going  to  be 
marry?  now?  to-day?" 

Carmelita  curled  her  lip,  but  made  no  reply. 
She  seemed  absorbed  in  observing  the  irregular 
festoons  of  her  peppers. 

"  Why  you  no  answerum? "  demanded  the  man 
in  a  tone  which  all  the  registers  of  his  voice 
seemed  struggling  to  possess.  "  Why  you  no  an 
swerum?  Telia  me!  Telia  me!  You  going  to  be 
•marry?  Whoheis't" 

Carmelita  glanced  at  him  and  for  the  first  time 
he  moved  her  to  a  faint  pity.  Repulsive  and 
hideous  as  he  was,  it  was  evident  that  in  his  sav 
age,  furious  way  he  was  suffering. 

" No,"  she  said  briefly,  "I  no  go  to  marry.  I 
never  marry  "  (emphatically),  "  and  I  wish  you  no 
speak  to  me  again.  I  hate  you."  And  she  walked 
into  her  room  at  the  end  of  the  porch  and  shut 
the  door,  bolting  it  loudly. 

But  after  that  she  wore  a  knife  at  her  belt. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  63 


VII. 

THE   DEATH    OF   A   TITAN. 

A  NEW  life  had:  opened  before  Carmelita  in 
that  midsummer  day  on  the  mountain.  She  no 
longer  rebelled  against  her  narrow  conditions  or 
dreamed  of  impossible  futures.  She  could  not 
go  to  her  forest  every  day,  because  her  uncle's 
right  to  the  mustang  had  its  weight,  but  once 
a  week  she  went,  and  resting  her  head  against 
her  redwood  lover  talked  to  him  until  the  length 
ening  shadows  warned  her  that  frijoles  were  sput 
tering  in  the  pan.  She  always  sat  with  her  ear 
pressed  close  to  the  tree,  and  by-and-by  she  felt 
whispered  replies.  There  was  nothing  wooing  or 
tender  in  these  messages ;  they  shaped  themselves 
to  words  of  strength  and  courage  only,  but  Car 
melita  asked  no  more. 

Passionate  as  was  the  girl's  nature,  this  love 
satisfied  her.  In  spite  of  her  imperious  woman 
hood,  her  triumphant  fancy,  borne  in  loneliness, 


64  LOS    CERRITOS. 

nurtured  in  ignorance,  and  the  ideal  witbin  her,  car 
ried  her  disdainfully  above  the  material  plane  of 
the  people  with  whom  she  lived.  This  imagination 
heaped  scorn  upon  the  boors  of  her  daily  life; 
Castro  with  his  rude,  primitive  passion,  made  her 
shrink  unconsciously  from  what  she  had  never 
tried  to  understand,  and  the '  padre  she  did  not 
look  upon  as  a  man  at  all.  Consequently  the  in 
stinct  of  sex  had  never  vibrated  to  a  responding 
chord.  Her  nature,  restless  as  it  was,  rivalled  the 
mystery  of  the  eternal  redwoods,  and  it  was  easy 
to  persuade  herself  that  beneath  imagination  no 
life  existed  worth  the  having,  that  the  love  she 
had  found  completed  her  being.  Strangely  enough 
this  love,  perfect  as  it  was  in  its  way,  never  stung 
the  instinct  of  coquetry  into  life.  She  never 
pinned  on  a  flower  that  she  might  be>  fairer  in  her 
lover's  sight,  never  gave  a  thought  to  the  color 
of  her  gown,  nor  to  her  developing  beauty. 

One  day  she  was  sitting  with  her  head  against 
her  tree  delivering  a  long  monologue  to  the  army 
of  subjects  who  loomed  respectfully  above  her. 
She  had  named  each  of  them. 

"Antonio,"  she  said,  addressing  in   Spanish  a 


LOS   CERRITOS.  65 

tree  whose  bark  was  peeling,  "  thy  robe  is  getting 
ragged;  it  is  time  thy  Guadalupe  wrought  a  ne\v 
one  for  thee."  She  filing  a  pebble -at  a  tree  of 
lesser  girth  who  stood  beside  her  lord.  "Why 
dost  thon  not  weave  a  new  garment  for  thy  hus 
band,  thou  lazy  one?  If  thou  takest  no  more  care 
of  his  clothes  than  that,  mi  amante  and  I  will 
punish  thee.  Thou  shalt  have  no  more  children ; 
for  soon  even  they — Pepita,  Roberto,  Gloria  and 
Luis  " — indicating  with  as  weep  of  her  hand,  the 
modest  saplings  who  stood  betAveen  the  parent 
trees,  "  will  be  naked  and  shivering  when  the  cold 
fog  falls  from  the  white  fields  above.  Then! 
Sefiora  Guadalupe — Ay!  yi!  yi!  Dios  de  mi  alma ! 
What— what  is  that? " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  shaking  from  head  to 
foot.  A  deep  human  groan,  yet  too  mighty  for 
mortal  throat,  sounded  through  the  forest.  There 
was  one  moment's  awful  silence,  then  came  another 
groan,  deeper,  louder,  more  anguished,  more  hope 
less.  It  was  as  if  the  earth  were  parting  in  twain. 
Then  a  tremendous  crash  awoke  the  echoes.  For 
a  moment  Carmelita  stood,  faint  and  sick,  expect 
ing  to  feel  the  mountain  roc'k  beneath  her  feet. 
5 


66  LOS   CERRITOS. 

Soon  she  realized  that  the  earth  was  still,  and 
when  neither  groan  nor  crash  again  broke  the 
stillness,  she  knew  that  a  tree  had  fallen.  She 
sprang  rip  the  trail,  following  the  invisible  wave 
which  had  brought  her  the  sound.  To  her  keen 
ears  the  fainting  note  still  spoke,  and  even  in  this 
great,  pathless,  echoing  forest  she  knew  that  she 
would  find  the  tree.  She  had  a  confused  idea  of 
covering  it  with  flowers  and  chanting  a  burial 
service,  for  she  felt  as  if  a  kindred  life  had  gone 
out.  She  almost  sobbed  aloud  as  she  thought  of 
the  mortal  agony  which  had  forced  that  iron  heart 
to  give  voice  to  despair  and  pain. 

For  a  half -hour  she  pushed  her  way  through 
clinging  lilacs  and  sharp-leaved  elder,  and  once 
she  climbed  a  slender,  red-barked  madrono.  But 
no  new-fallen  tree  met  her  gaze,  and  she  sat  on  a 
log  to  rest.  In  the  stillness  that  followed  the 
crackling  of  parting  branches  she  distinctly  heard 
men's  voices.  She  was  on  her  feet  again  at  once, 
shaking  with  anger.  This  forest  was  sacred  to 
her,  and  the  voice  of  man  was  profanation.  She 
made  her  way  as  quickly  as  the  brush  would  per 
mit,  and  in  a  moment  c-ame  upon  a  small  clearing. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  67 

Three  men  sat  about  a  redwood,  just  felled 
Where  the  saw  had  cut  through  the  tree's  brave 
body  the  close,  red  fibre  looked  like  a  great  splash 
of  blood.  The  tree's  head  had  fallen  in  the  creek, 
which,  disturbed  for  a  moment,  nowr  gushed  in 
differently  on  its  way.  His  rigid,  mighty  arms 
seemed  to  have  clutched  the  earth  in  his  fall. 
Stark,  conquered,  his  a3ons  of  splendid  calm 
ended,  he  lay  in  his  fall  grander,  more  majestic 
and  supremer,  than  the  broad-chested  moun 
taineers  who  had  dared  to  drive  their  steel  to 
his  heart.  For  a  moment  Carmelita  stood,  white 
to  the  lips.  Then,  with  a  hoarse  cry  of  rage,  she 
sprang  forward  and  confronted  the  men. 

"You  no  are  shem!  "  she  gasped,  "you  no  are 
shem  to  kill  that  tree?  Oh!  I  wish  somebody  kill 
you !  You  think  God  make  that  tree  for  you  to 
kill?  Oh  Dios!  I  wish  He  opa  the  earth  and 
swallow  you  up." 

The  girl  with  her  tangled,  leaf -sown  hair,  her 
blazing  eyes,  and  raised,  menacing  arm,  looked 
like  a  Fury  whom  indignant  Nature  had  tossed 
from  her  caverns  to  avenge  her  wrongs.  For  a 
moment  the  men  stood  dumfounded  at  the  ap- 


68  LOS   CERRITOS. 

parition ;  then  one  of  tliem  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  Huh !  it's  that  girl  of  Espinoza's.  I  seen  her 
once  when  I  went  to  the  Cerritos  after  my  cow 
that  damned  Castro  had  stolen.  You  mustn't  feel 
so  bad,"  he  added  kindly  to  the  girl.  "We've 
only  cut  down  a  tree." 

"  Only  cut  down  a  tree ! "  half  sobbed,  half 
shrieked  Carmelita.  "  Oh  Dios."  She  turned  sud 
denly  to  the  speaker.  "  They  cut  these  trees,  this 
forest,  all  the  times? "  she  demanded  breathlessly. 

"  Oh  no !  We've  only  cut  down  this  'ere  one  to 
make  a  bridge  across  the  creek.  There  is  a  good 
many  quicksands  along  here,  you  see,  and  it's  dan 
gerous.  It  '11  be  many  a  day  before  this  forest  falls, 
miss.  There  be  too  many  others  nigh  to  'Frisco." 

"I  hope  I  be  dead  before  I  ever  see  another 
fctree  fall!  "  exclaimed  Carmelita  passionately.  u  I 
know,  I  know  these  trees  no  were  put  here  to  be 
cut  down.  They  are  like  mens,  and  like  mens  no 
should  fall  excep  when  their  roots  wither  and 
their  sap  dry."  And  folding  her  arms  she  turned 
her  back  upon  the  puzzled  mountaineers  and 
walked  away. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  69 

The  path  was  steep,  and  when  she  reached  the 
top  she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff  and 
sinking  exhausted  among  the  ferns  cried  herself 
to  sleep.  An  hour  later  she  awakened  with  a 
shiver;  the  ocean  beyond  the  mountains  was 
sending  forth  its  chilly  fogs. 

Carmelita  moved  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff  and 
looked  over.  Two  hundred  feet  below  her,  sheer 
down  a  rocky  precipice,  was  a  garden  of  green,  a 
peninsula  higher  by  several  feet  than  the  creek 
that  swept  its  base,  and  covered  with  a  dense, 
luxuriant  growth  of  shrubs  and  trees.  From  its 
nave  rose  a  redwood.  About  his  feet  clung  a 
myriad  saplings  as  if  they  would  hold  him  fast 
to  earth ;  but  calm  and  inexorable  the  great  tree 
canopied  them  from  his  height,  a  hundred  feet 
and  more  above  the  ledge  on  which  knelt  Car 
melita.  Around  the  peninsula's  base  sang  the 
creek,  tumbling  over  its  rocks  in  tiny  cascades, 
and  behind,  towered  the  mountain,  a  solid  wall 
of  redwoods.  Over  the  mountain  drifted  the  fog, 
but,  so  thickly  thronged  the  redwoods,  their 
aisles  scarce  were  wide  enough  to  welcome  even 
so  shrinking  a  guest  as  an  ocean  mist. 


/O  LOS   CERRITOS. 

Carmelita  forgot  pain  and  anger  for  the  moment ; 
then  she  lifted  her  clenched  hand  and  shook  it  at 
an  imagined  city's  pigmy  swarms.  "Madre  de 
Dios,"  she  prayed,  "  let  the  houses  fall  on  the  men 
who  build  with  the  redwoods.  When  the  earth 
quake  comes  let  it  open  and  take  down  the  boards 
to  look  for  their  roots.  And  let  the  men  go  with 
them  and  clutching  at  those  roots,  old  as  the 
world,  useless  now  forever,  hang  until  judgment 
day  above  the  ball  of  fire  the  padre  says  is  the 
heart  of  the  earth.  May  they  roast  there  like 
martyrs  at  the  stake,  and  may  their  fingers  grow 
into  the  roots  of  the  trees  they  cut,  that  they  shall 
fly  through  hell  holding  them  always  above  their 
heads."  And  having  uttered  her  malediction 
Carmelita  remembered  that  she  was  hungry  and 
started  for  home. 


LOS   CERRITOS. 


VTII. 

A   HERALD    OF   BAD   TIDINGS. 

SHE  was  riding  slowly  up  one  of  the  hills  near 
her  uncle's  farm  when  a  horseman  suddenly  ap 
peared  on  the  brow.  As  Castro's  rough  head  and 
huge  form  stood  outlined  against  the  fading  sky 
Carmelita  gave  an  exclamation  of  disgust  and 
half  turned  her  horse's  head.  Then  pride  gave  its 
usual  peremptory  knock  and  she  rode  on,  her 
head  turned  haughtily  aside.  Castro  rode  directly 
up  to  her,  but  no  ardor  was  in  his  face  to-day. 
His  coarse  black  brows  pushed  each  other  into  a 
level  frown,  and  his  face  was  purple  with  anger. 

u  I  have  the  good  newses  for  you,"  he  shouted. 
"  You  so  good  to  me  it  is  good  I  am  the  one  to 
tella  you.  A  great— 

"  Let  me  go  by,"  said  Carmelita,  "  I  no  want 
hear  your  news." 

But  Castro  caught  her  horse  by  its  bridle,  un 
mindful  that  her  hand  went  to  her  belt.  "  You 


72  LOS   CERRITOS. 

go  to  hear  me,"  lie  said.  "A  great  sefior  buying 
this  rancho  and  we  all  have  to  going." 

Carmelita's  hand  fell  from  her  belt.  "Como 
dice?  she  faltered.  "But  no!  That  no  can  be. 
The  ranch  is  the  government's  before  we  take  it, 
and  the  government  no  sell." 

"So  we  have  think.  Oh  yes!  But  it  no  was 
so ;  some  one  he  have  a  Spanish  grant — like  with 
the  other  ranches — and  a  rich  senor  he  buy  from 
him.  But  he  no  shall  have,"  he  yelled,  lashing 
his  whip  at  the  air.  "  He  can  say  he  have  the 
grant  but  he  lie.  He  forging  the  grant,  and  si 
he  no  did,  the  man  who  give  to  him  have  done  it. 
The  ranchitas  are  ours !  ours !  and  we  keep  si  we 
killing  the  man  who  take." 

Forgetting  Carmelita's  presence  for  once,  he 
dropped  her  bridle  and  galloped  down  the  hill  to 
his  own  hacienda,  one  of  the  largest  and  most  pro 
ductive  on  the  ranch.  Carmelita,  her  head  whirl 
ing,  yet  refusing  to  believe,  rode  rapidly  over  the 
hill  and  across  the  dry  bed  of  the  river  to  her 
home.  Excitement  reigned  between  those  stolid 
walls.  Espinoza  had  returned  from  the  Aguitas 
but  an  hour  before  with  the  news.  "  But  we  go 


LOS   CERRITOS.  73 

to  fighting,"  he  cried  to  Carmelita  as  he  recapitu 
lated,  the  tale.  "  We  putting  our  moneys  together 
that  we  maka  this  year  and  fighting  si  we  no  have 
bread  to  eat.  Hunter  "  (one  of  the  "  white  squat" 
ters  ")  "  he  going  to  San  Francisco  and  finding  the 
lawyer ;  and  Clark  he  say  he  have  more  moneys 
this  year  that  he  make  on  two  hosses  he  sell  to 
the  stage;  and  Castro,  he  give  all  whatte  he  have. 
Oh!  they  no  can  take  our  ranchitas.  They  no 
can  take!  "  And  Espinoza,  the  mildest  and  most 
good-natured  of  men,  stalked  up  and  down  the 
room  in  a  state  of  indignation  which  was  a  refine 
ment  of  Castro's  fury. 

Little  supper  was  eaten  that  night,  and  when  it 
was  over  Carmelita  walked  slowly  down  the  road 
to  the  padre's  house.  He  had  given  her  every 
thing  she  had  asked  for;  she  did  not  doubt  he 
would  solve  the  present  difficulty.  It  was  a  chill 
autumn  night;  a  gray  mist,  like  a  wind-stirred 
veil,  covered  Nature's  every  feature,  and  as  Car 
melita  came  suddenly  upon  the  dark  walls  of  the 
Mission  they  loomed  out  of  the  fog,  gigantic  and 
distorted.  The  mist  clung  to  the  padre's  windows, 
and  she  found  him  sitting  by  the  fire  in  his  study 


74  LOS   CERRITOS. 

— the  same  bare,  cheerless  room  wherein  she  had 
beshrewed  and  capitulated  eight  years  ago.  He 
had  not  lighted  the  lamp,  but  the  logs  cast  a  ruddy 
glow  on  the  whiter  patches  of  the  walls.  As  Car- 
melita  entered  he  looked  up  with  a  grave  smile. 

She  sat  down  beside  him  and  took  his  hand. 
"  Tell  me,  padre  mio,  it  no  is  true,"  she  said. 

"  It  is  true,  Carmelita,  that  this  man,  whoever 
he  may  be,  will  try  to  take  your  homes.  But  it 
remains  to  be  seen  if  there  is  any  justice  in  the 
law.  I  cannot  believe  that  this  Alexander  Tre- 
maine  has  a  grant;  it  is  more  than  doubtful  if  one 
ever  was  given ;  but  even  so,  the  land  reverted  to 
the  government  long  ago,  and  it  now  belongs  by 
divine  right  to  the  men  who  get  their  bread  out  of 
it.  But  this  man,  having  gone  so  far  as  to  claim 
it,  will  fight  to  the  death,  and  he  has  money  to 
help  him  to  his  end.  But  I  believe  that  we  shall 
win.  Not  that  right  always  triumphs  in  this 
world,  by  any  means,  but  because  the  case  is  so 
palpably  ours.  The  men  have  a  little  more  money 
than  usual  this  year.  I  left  a  small  property  be 
hind  me  and  I  shall  sell  it  and  use  the  money  in 
your  cause.  I  will  keep  a  little,  for  the  children 


LOS   CERRITOS.  75 

may  want  bread,  but  you  can  have  the  rest;  I 
have  no  use  for  it." 

"  Padre  mio !  Padre  mio !  "  said  Carmelita,  "  you 
are  good  like  the  saints." 

"I  shall  never  be  a  saint,  Carmelita;  "  said  the 
priest  with  a  sigh,  "but  occasionally  a  chance 
comes  wherewith  to  buy  absolution  for  the  regret 
that  still— still— lives,  for  the  old  life." 

As  was  his  habit,  he  had  suddenly  forgotten 
Carmelita  and  was  muttering  to  himself.  The  girl 
put  out  her  hand  again  and  touched  his. 

"Padre  mio,"  she  said  softly,  curiosity  again 
awake,  now  that  her  fears  were  half  allayed, 
"  Tell  me  what  is  life." 

The  padre  gave  a  low,  harsh  laugh,  his  eyes  still 
fixed  on  the  burning  logs. 

"  Life,  my  dear,  is  a  gray  plain,  whereon  are  mi 
rages — nothing  more.  The  sky  is  gray  with  legions 
of  escaping  souls;  the  ground  is  gray  with  the 
ashes  of  their  hopes,  their  ambitions,  their  desires. 
Life  is  a  panting  and  stumbling  pursuit  of  what 
on  earth  is  not.  It  is  a  blind  and  volitionless 
obedience  to  a  prompting  that  bids  us  grasp  and 
hold  to  our  hearts  life's  most  dominant  desire — 


76  LOS   CERRITOS. 

happiness.  We  spend  our  first  years  clutching 
the  air  with  eager  fingers,  our  last,  gazing  at  our 
hollow  palms.  We  dream  our  youth  away;  we 
suddenly  awaken  and  say,  Behold  what  matters 
whether  our  dreams  harden  to  substance,  or 
whether,  shapeless  and  ghostlike,  they  flit  forever 
in  the  realms  of  the  ideal,  since  the  end  of  all 
things  is — Death.  We  kiss  the  lips  that  quiver 
forever  in  our  spirit's  waves  like  imprisoned 
sound,  and  picture  them  rolled  back  from  glitter 
ing  teeth  with  six  feet  of  earth  above.  And  before 
death  comes,  what  have  we  found?  A  rotting 
flower  where  we  had  sought  an  exquisite  perfume ; 
a  torch-lit  cavern  where  hope  had  whispered  of 
the  sun's  broad  light.  We  tramp  in  a  treadmill, 
we  are  the  blind  servants  of  mighty  Circumstance, 
we  cannot  walk  save  as  he  listeth.  All  lives  are 
failures,  and  yet  within  each  are  the  seeds  of  per 
fect  bliss.  But  the  stones  have  been  planted  thicker 
than  the  seeds,  and  no  man  is  given  a  chance  for 
equal  fight."  He  left  his  chair  and  strode  rapidly 
up  and  down  the  room.  Carmelita  followed  with 
horrified  eyes  the  vibrating  figure  over  which  the 
fire  cast  weird,  dancing  blades  of  light.  "It  is 


LOS   CERRITOS.  77 

only  a  fool  who  hugs  his  personal  interest  in  life, 
after  life  has  taught  him  wisdom.  It  is  only  a 
madman  who  prays  that  his  wishes  shall  be 
given  him,  his  hopes  fulfilled.  We  are  com 
pounded  for  some  object,  what,  but  One  can  tell. 
With  the  ingredients  which  predominate  in  each 
particular  compound  we  work  out  our  destinies 
as  verily  as  had  each  most  pigmy  act  been  writ  in 
some  ponderous  Book  of  Destiny.  Every  whis 
per,  every  smile,  every  murderer's  thrust,  or 
nation's  downfall  are  but  links  in  a  chain,  forg 
ing  and  unalterably  forged."  His  white  face 
thrown  back  against  the  room's  thick  shadows 
looked,  for  the  moment,  bodiless  as  a  virgin  moon ; 
then  he  raised  his  hand  with  a  gesture  almost  of 
imprecation.-  "  Of  what  use  to  pray  that  the  chain 
may  be  rent,'*  he  cried  wildly,  "the  sequence 
broken,  the  world  hurled  to  chaos  in  the  halt  of 
inexorable  law?  What  else  do  we  mean  when  we 
pray,  pray  for  that  which  Circumstance,  God's 
chief  steward,  sees  not  n't  to  give  us?  The  Al 
mighty  must  laugh  in  our  faces  when  we  put  up 
our  puny  petitions  for  a  grain  of  happiness  out  of 
the  bounty  of  his  universe!  " 


78  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  Padre  mio !  Padre  mio !  "  gasped  Carmelita, 
as  the  priest's  voice  rang  against  the  narrow  walls. 

Her  tone  and  words  recalled  him  to  his  senses, 
and  he  went  to  her  side  and  raised  her  to  her 
feet.  "  Forgive  me,  Carmelita,"  he  said,  and  his 
voice  had  become  suddenly  thin  and  lifeless. 
"  Sometimes  I  forget  myself.  The  terrible  mys 
tery  of  life,  the  helpless,  endless  waiting  for  that 
compensation  we  are  all  promised, — they  press  too 
heavily  at  times.  Go  now,  and  I  will  spend  the 
night  in  prayer  and  penance.  We  may  not  de 
mand  of  God  that  he  shall  revolutionize  our  earthly 
conditions,  but  at  least  we  may  cry  for  purification 
and  patience." 

And  Carmelita  left  the  priest  to  a  night  whose 
awful  mysteries,  her  clear  soul  never  imaged. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  79 


IX. 

THE   COKDOVAS    OF    LINDAVISTA. 

ALL  night  Carmelita  lay  awake  thinking  of  the 
huge  cloud  which  had  suddenly  swung  above  the 
horizon  and  now  hung  low  over  this  peaceful 
hamlet,  ready  to  burst.  It  was  her  first  actual 
contact  with  the  sterner  ills  of  life.  Occasionally 
she  had  shuddered  and  crossed  herself  while  lis 
tening  to  a  tale  of  murder  done  by  some  desperate, 
passionate  Mexican;  and  a  few  years  before  one 
of  the  babies  had  died  in  her  arms.  But  the 
tragedies  were  tales  at  second  hand,  and  there 
were  so  many  babies !  But  this !  this !  Suppose,  in 
spite  of  the  padre's  hopeful  words,  it  should  be 
true.  Carmelita  turned  suddenly  on  her  face  and 
pulled  the  blanket  over  her  head.  She  dared 
not  formulate  the  consequences,  but^  their  very 
flashing  phantoms  touched  her  veins  with  icy 
fingers.  And  if  they  should  not  have  money 
enough  to  pay  the  law!  She  knew  but  little  of 


80  LOS   CERRITOS. 

tlie  great  legal  skeleton  \vliicli  encases  restive  hu 
manity,  but  slie  had  heard  that  its  large  maw  had 
a  greedy  expansion  for  gold.  She  sat  up  in  bed 
and  put  her  hands  to  her  head.  If  her  father 
were  but  alive !  For  the  moment,  yearningly  loved 
as  that  dreamlike  father  had  been,  she  thought 
but  of  the  gold  that  had  gone  with  his  life.  If 
she  only  had  it  now  to  help  defeat  this  demon 
who  would  steal  their  homes.  But  she  was  use 
less  as  all  women,  save  to  cook  and  sweep;  and 
poorer  than  the  birds  without.  She  rocked  to 
and  fro,  dragging  her  hair  about  her  face,  biting 
the  strands  in  her  perplexity.  And  suddenly  a 
thought  was  born  in  her  brain.  Adjoining  the 
Gerritos  Kancho  was  the  remnant  of  a  great  ranch 
which  had  once  belonged  to  a  Mexican  grandee  in 
those  days  when  Spain  ruled  and  the  country's 
gold  was  undisturbed.  All  that  was  left  of  Linda- 
vista  now  was  a  solitary  hill  and  the  old  adobe 
house  on  its  summit.  Once  that  rambling  old 
mansion  h^d  been  the  scene  of  princely  extrava 
gance;  beautiful  almond-eyed  women  with  man 
tilla-draped  heads  and  slender  fans,  swayed  like 
music  by  curving  wrists,  had  danced  the  son  in 


LOS   CERRITOS.  8 1 

the  great  sala,  while  gay  caballeros  rode,  clanking, 
into  the  court  without.  But  to-day  the  house 
was  bare  as  that  of  the  humblest  squatter.  Gone 
were  the  laughing  women  and  eager,  hot-blooded 
men,  gone  the  rich  stuffs  of  Spain,  the  golden 
plate,  the  joy  of  life.  A  proud  old  woman  and 
her  withered  daughters  lived  alone,  thankful  for 
beans  on  earthen  plates. 

Why,  then,  had  Carmelita  thought  of  these 
people?  What  good  could  they  do  her?  None, 
a  few  weeks  ago.  But  Carmelita  remembered  that 
within  the  month,  a  strange  woman,  heavily  veiled, 
richly  dressed,  had  come  to  the  Aguitas  by  the 
night  stage  and  been  driven  directly  to  Lindavista. 
A  day  later  a  large  wagon-load  of  furniture  had 
followed  her.  Soon  it  was  known  that  proud  old 
Senora  Cordova  had  a  boarder  who  would  remain 
for  an  indefinite  time ;  but  what  her  name  wras  no 
one  could  discover,  and  as  she  was  never  seen,  her 
advent  was  quickly  forgotten. 

But  Carmelita  remembered  her  in  this  night  of 
her  extremity.  This  woman,  she  felt  sure,  was 
wealthy  and  must  have  sewing  for  poorer  hands. 

Carmelita  could  sew,  that  was  her  one  accomplish- 
6 


82  LOS   CERRITOS. 

merit;  many  a  dress  had  her  deft  fingers  made  for 
the  little  ones.  Once  embarked  on  the  sea  of  con 
jecture  it  did  not  take  her  long  to  reach  the  shore. 
She  would  go  the  next  day  and  ask  the  stranger 
to  give  her  work.  The  lady  would  not  refuse 
when  she  heard  her  story.  And  comforted  by  her 
unquestioning  faith  in  human  charity,  she  fell 
asleep  as  dawn  awoke  the  redwoods. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  83 


X. 

A   NEW   EXPERIENCE. 

THE  Cordovas'  house  stood  unsheltered  on  a 
bare,  brown  hill.  Every  tree  and  stone  had  been 
sold  to  keep  the  wretched  family  above  the  earth 
which  seemed  to  have  so  much  more  welcome  for 
them  below.  The  large,  one-storied  adobe  house 
covered  three  sides  of  a  patio  wherein  a  fountain 
lay  buried  beneath  the  nettles  that  had  choked  it 
to  death,  and  thistles  flourished  where  palms  had 
been.  A  dingy,  occasional  patch  of  paler  tint 
than  the  rough  earth  walls  was  all  that  was  left 
of  the  gala-day  whitewash,  while  behind  was 
not  a  superfluous  article  of  furniture.  And  yet 
the  stern  old  dame  who  lived  there  never  forgot 
the  splendor  of  her  youth,  never  acknowledged 
the  poverty  of  the  present.  Each  day,  although 
biting  her  lips  perchance,  to  keep  back  a  hungry 
cry,  she  had  her  daughters  array  her  in  the  decay 
ing  satins  her  husband  had  given  her  when  his 


84  LOS   CERRITOS. 

acres  rolled  to  the  mountain's  feet.  Each  day  she 
left  her  bedroom  and  sat  on  a  throne-like  chair  in 
her  cold,  bare  sala  and  forced  her  daughters  to 
serve  her  coarse  bread  and  potato  with  the  same 
state  as  liveried  servants  had  once  set  dishes  of 
gold  before  her.  The  youngest  daughter,  Lucia, 
sometimes  rebelled  against  this  vain  simulacrum 
of  state  which  had  not  even  gilded  her  babyhood, 
but  the  three  elder  women  yielded  their  mother  a 
haughty,  silent,  hopeless  servitude. 

Carmelita  had  often  heard  of  this  singular 
family  but  never  seen  them.  It  was  therefore 
with  mingled  trepidation  and  curiosity  that  she 
knocked  loudly  upon  the  heavy  door  of  the  Cor 
dova  mansion.  After  she  had  pounded  for  ten 
minutes  the  door  was  slowly  unbolted  and  opened 
the  width  of  an  inch.  A  tangled  head  and  one 
supercilious  eye  appeared  at  the  aperture.  For  a 
moment  there  was  a  steady  interchange  of  glances, 
and  then  the  Senorita  Lucia  hospitably  demanded, 
"  Who  are  you?  What  do  you  want? " 
"  I  am  Carmelita  Murietta,"  replied  our  heroine, 
who  had  it  not  in  her  nature  to  be  daunted  by 
scorn;  "the  niece  de  Pedro  Espinoza." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  85 

The  door  receded  a  trifle  and  two  eyes  became 
visible.  Espinoza's  name  inspired  confidence. 

"And  what  do  you  want?"  asked  Lucia. 

"  I  want  see  the  senora  who  stay  with  you." 

"But  you  cannot  see  her.  She  sees  no  one. 
And  why  should  she  want  to  see  you?" 

"  I  must  have  sewing,"  said  Carmelita  bluntly. 
"0  senorita,  let  me  see  her.  They  say  we  mus 
leave  our  haciendas.  A  wicked  man  he  buy  the 
rancho,  and  I  mus  make  some  of  the  moneys  to 
pay  the  lawyers." 

Lucia  had  a  kind  heart  beneath  her  rough  and 
soiled  exterior,  and  her  curiosity  was  also  excited. 
She  now  opened  the  door  wide  and  revealed  her 
entire  limp  and  bedraggled  form.  "  Come  in  and 
see  madre,"  she  said,  "  and  if  she  says  you  can  see 
the  senora  I  will  take  you  to  her." 

She  led  the  way  through  barren  rooms,  dark 
and  musty  behind  their  thick  wooden  shutters, 
and  turning  the  angle  of  the  house,  threw  open 
the  door  of  a  large  sala  overlooking  one  side  of 
the  court.  The  coarse  cotton  curtains  were  drawn 
across  the  deep  windows,  but  Carmelita's  eyes 
quickly  accustomed  themselves  to  the  shadows, 


86  LOS   CERRITOS. 

and  she  saw  that  a  woman  sat  on  a  large  chair  at 
the  end  of  the  desert-like  room. 

"  Make  a  bow  and  kiss  her  hand,"  said  Lucia, 
nudging  her  guest,  "  or  else  she  won't  do  anything 
for  you.  And  talk  loud,  for  she  is  deaf." 

Carmelita  made  a  graceful  if  somewhat  uncon 
ventional  bow  when  she  stood  before  the  august 
presence  and  obediently  kissed  the  large-veined, 
stringy  hand  extended  to  her.  The  woman  before 
her  was  not  less  diverting  than  startling.  Not 
more  than  five  feet,  she  must  have  weighed  two 
hundred  pounds,  and  the  crimson  satin  gown 
which  had  been  made  in  the  days  of  her  slim, 
young  matronhood,  was  pieced  out  here  and  there 
with  turkey-red  calico,  vainly  ambushed  by  coarse 
black  net.  Her  grizzled  hair  was  piled  high,  two 
flat  curls  were  plastered  between  ear  and  cheek 
bone,  and  over  all  were  draped  the  remnants  of  a 
black  mantilla.  On  the  minutely  wrinkled  upper 
lip  and  chin  of  her  fat  yet  shrivelled  face  was  a 
silken  and  jetty  growth  which  many  a  youth 
might  have  envied.  Her  black  eyes  glittered  in 
yellow  caves,  and  her  back  was  straight  from  the 
pressure  of  flesh  in  front.  Her  heavy,  pleasure 


LOS   CERRITOS.  S/ 

loving  mouth  was  drawn  in  a  taut  bow  that  never 
quivered,  but  the  cheeks  hung  over  the  corners. 

u  Who  is  this  girl? "  she  asked  in  Spanish  of  her 
daughter;  "and  why  do  you  admit  strangers?" 

"I  could  not  help  it;  I  felt  so  sorry  for  her," 
called  Lucia.  "  She  will  tell  you  herself." 

Carmelita  raised  her  voice,  and  its  sweet  yet 
piercing  tones  carried  straight  to  the  old  woman's 
brain.  When  she  had  finished  her  story  the 
Sefiora  Cordova  bent  her  head  several  times  in 
slow  succession,  contempt  on  her  mouth. 

"  That  is  the  way  of  the  world,"  she  said.  "  The 
rich  take  from  the  poor  always.  Else  would  they 
not  be  rich.  I,  however,  shall  help  you.  You 
shall  have  my  silver  plate  and  my  pearls — the 
black  set,  Lucia— and  my  Spanish  point  as  well, 
if  need  there  be."  This  was  said  with  an  air  so 
majestic  and  so  gracious  that,  involuntarily,  Car- 
melita's  heart  beat  high  with  hope.  "But  the 
things  are  locked  in  the  great  chests  that  stand  in 
the  cellar,  and  I  have  mislaid  the  keys.  Lucia 
will  look  for  them,  and  until  they  are  found  it 
may  be  as  well  for  you  to  speak  with  our  guest. 
She  is  kind  and  will  give  you  something  to  make. 


88  LOS   CERRITOS. 

Doubtless  she  will  be  glad  to  hear  of  you,  for  my 
daughters  know  naught  of  menial  work." 

"Madre  de  Dios,"  murmured  her  daughter, 
"  who  does  she  think  cooks  her  dinner  and  mends 
her  rags  ?  But  come,  Carmelita,  and  I  will  take 
you  to  the  senora.  Kiss  her  hand  again." 

Carmelita  bent  over  the  withered  hand,  for 
whose  brown  loveliness  a  doting  man  would  once 
have  bartered  all  else  that  made  life  dear  to  him, 
then  followed  Lucia  out  of  the  room. 

"  You  are  not  to  ask  her  name,"  said  the  young 
est  of  the  Cordovas,  as  they  walked  down  the 
verandah  which  separated  the  court  from  the 
house,  and  paused  at  a  door  in  the  wing  opposite 
the  sala.  "  We  do  not  know  it  ourselves.  She 
wished  to  remain  several  months  and  would  pay 
well.  We  were  only  too  glad  to  have  her.  Madre 
calls  her  '  our  guest,'  but  she  knows  well  why  there 
is  meat  on  the  table.  The  seliora  has  nothing  to 
say,  but  she  is  no  trouble  and  looks  as  if  she  had 
a  kind  heart,  I  am  sure  she  will  give  you 
work — mending  at  least." 

She  knocked  lightly,  but  there  was  no  answer. 
"  Perhaps  she  is  praying,"  said  Lucia,  "  She  never 


LOS   CERRITOS.  89 

goes  to  the  Mission,  but  she  prays  a  great  deal 
and  has  a  beautiful  prie-dien,  carved  all  over." 

She  pushed  the  door  open  noiselessly,  and  as 
Carmelita  followed  her  into  the  room  she  drew  a 
quick  breath  of  pleasure.  Darkened  as  the  large 
apartment  was,  its  luxury  was  unmistakable.  A 
thick  rug  covered  the  stone  floor,  and  soft,  heavy 
stuffs  hung  from  brass  rods  against  the  walls. 
The  deep  window  seats  were  soft  Avith  silken 
cushions  and  shaded  with  delicate  lace.  Beneath 
them  was  a  broad  divan,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  a  carved  table  was  covered  with  books  and 
magazines.  Great  brass  andirons  upheld  the  logs 
in  the  cavernous  fireplace  and  the  flames  whirled 
about  their  heads  like  lightning  around  fusing 
stars.  The  tints  of  the  room  were  subdued,  almost 
sad,  but  Carmelita  felt  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  a  delicious  sense  of  coziness  and  comfort. 
Through  parting  curtains  she  saw  a  carved  oaken 
bed,  covered  and  hung  with  a  material  that  looked 
like  the  moss  which  clung  to  the  stout  oak's  trunk. 

But  where  was  the  woman  whose  magic  had 
transformed  an  ugly  old  adobe  room  into  a  nest 
rich  as,  the  wild  lily  beds  of  the  forest  in  summer 


90  LOS    CERRITOS. 

time?  Lucia  nudged  with  her  active  elbow  and 
laid  her  finger  on  her  lips.  Carmelita  followed 
her  jerking  eyebrows,  then  crossed  her  hands. 

In  a  corner  of  the  room,  beneath  a  heavy  ivory 
crucifix  was  a  prie-dieu,  and  on  its  cushion  knelt 
a  woman,  her  head  bowed  low  on  her  folded  arms. 
Carmelita  could  distinguish  the  slender  outline  of 
a  black-robed  figure,  a  mass  of  golden  hair  which, 
swept  the  floor,  and  a  little  hand  that  hung,  white 
and  slender,  over  the  dark  edge  of  the  prie-dieu. 
She  felt  an  ardent  desire  to  see  the  face  of  this 
mysterious  woman;  she  was  sure  that  it  would  be 
unlike  anything  which  had  ever  entered  her  life's 
narrow  circle. 

Whether  the  woman  had  finished  her  prayers 
or  whether  she  felt  the  presence  of  others  in  the 
room,  she  rose  in  a  moment  and  confronted  her 
visitors.  And  verily  she  might  have  dropped  from 
another  planet,  so  unlike  was  she  to  any  one  who 
had  ever  crossed  this  valley  of  San  Ysidro.  The 
face,  white  as  an  ocean's  mist,  was  crossed  at  the 
mouth  with  a  line  of  red,  but  no  blood  pulsed  in 
the  thin  cheeks.  She  had  the  green  eyes  of  Cali 
fornia — the  limpid,  translucent  green  of  cryso- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  9! 

prase,  and  the  Telling  laslies  were  brown  and 
soft.  She  might  move  amidst  the  graves  of  thirty- 
five  buried  years ;  unf aded  and  unlined  as  was  her 
face  it  was  fixed  with  the  seal  of  life  exhausted. 
But  -with  those  carven  features,  and  that  graceful, 
haughty  poise  of  head  she  would  be  beautiful  long 
after  her  white  skin  had  yellowed  and  her  red 
mouth  bleached. 

Her  brow,  calmed  by  prayer,  was  drawn  with 
a  slight  frown  as  she  saw  the  intruders. 

"  What  is  it? "  she  asked  coldly. 

Lucia  took  her  companion's  hand  and  drew  her 
forward.  "  This  is  Carmelita  Marietta,"  she  said. 
"Her  father  was  the  famous  bandit  —  Joaquin 
Marietta,  you  know.  She  lives  Avith  her  uncle, 
Pedro  Espinoza,  the  most  honest  man  in  the  val 
ley.  She  has  come  here  to  see  you,  sehora.  Car 
melita,  you  will  tell  the  seiiora  what  you  want, 
yourself,  no?  I  must  go  now  and  cook  the  dinner 
for  the  queen  and  the  guest.  It  is  my  turn. 
Adios."  And  she  went  out  and  left  Carmelita  to 
explain  her  errand. 

The  lady's  face  softened  as  she  watched  the 
beautiful  appealing  eyes  of  her  unceremonious 


92  LOS   CERRITOS. 

visitor.  The  girl  interested  her  at  once  and  she 
was  disposed  to  be  generous  before  her  sympathies 
were  demanded.  She  took  Carmelita's  hand  and 
led  her  to  the  divan. 

"  Sit  down,"  she  said.  "  I  am  glad  you  came 
to  me.  Tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"  Let  me  touch  your  hair !  "  exclaimed  Carmelita. 

The  lady  smiled  and  bent  her  head  while  Car 
melita  knelt  beside  her  and  plunged  her  hands 
into  the  soft  masses.  "  Is  it  real  gold? "  she  whis 
pered  ecstatically. 

"Do  you  like  it?  It  is  not  half  so  beautiful  as 
those  great  black  braids  of  your  own." 

The  girl  shook  her  dusky  head  disdainfully. 

"  Everybody  have  black  hair;  but  this  is  like  the 
ice-grass  in  October,  like  the  maiden-hair  when 
the  sun  have  burnt  it,  like  the  ripe  corn  silk,  and 
like  the  yellow  violets  in  the  forest!  "  She  stood 
up  and  shook  the  glittering  waves  all  over  the 
black -gowned  figure,  then  twisted  them  into  a 
hard,  shining  rope.  The  woman  almost  laughed 
aloud ;  the  girl  was  so  unconscious  of  taking  any 
liberty;  of  the  word  caste  she  had  never  heard. 

"It  is  the  hair  of  California,"  she  said  indul- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  93 

gently.  "  The  sun  married  her  one  night  and  we 
are  the  result.  But  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you 
have  never  seen  light  hair  before? " 

"  I  see  white  hair,"  said  Carmelita,  dropping  her 
rope  with  a  sigh  and  watching  it  spring  vibrantly 
to  its  separate  threads.  "The  childrens  of  the 
white  squatters  they  have  stuff  like  wool,  but  we 
no  see  hair  like  this  by  the  San  Ysidro  River 
before — never — never. ' ' 

She  sank  down  at  the  woman's  feet  and  looked 
up  into  the  strange,  green  eyes,  bending  over  her. 
They  looked  as  if  the  lires  of  earth  were  frozen  in 
their  calm,  cold  depths. 

"I  forget  that  I  come  to  see  you  for  another 
thing,"  she  said  hesitatingly. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  lady  absently.  She 
was  looking  at  her  with  the  pleasure  derived  from 
a  keen  artistic  sense.  Carmelita,  as  usual,  had  on  a 
red  cotton  blouse,  open  at  the  throat,  and  a  brown 
cotton  skirt  that  did  not  reach  her  bare,  little 
ankles.  Her  feet,  which  had  never  known  a  shoe, 
were  dusty  and  rough,  but  slender  and  well-shaped. 
The  thick,  blue-black  braids  lying  on  the  floor, 
grew  from  her  forehead  in  a  waving  line,  and  there 


94  LOS   CERRITOS. 

was  a  delightful  harmony  about  the  backward 
sweep  of  her  hair  and  eyebrow  and  upper  lip. 

"  You  must  have  wanted  something  very  much 
to  come  all  this  distance  to  see  me,"  the  woman 
continued  after  a  moment.  "You  may  be  sure 
that  I  will  do  anything  for  you  that  I  can." 

"O  senora,"  exclaimed  Carmelita,  now  fully 
recalled  to  a  sense  of  her  wrongs.  "  They  go  to 
put  us  out  of  our  housses." 

"  Who?    What  do  you  mean? " 

"A  man  who  say  he  buy  the  Rancho  de  los 
Cerritos.  He  say  it  was  a  Spanish  grant.  It  no 
was,  senora.  We  take  from  the  government  and 
it  is  ours.  That  is  the  law." 

"  But  are  you  sure,  my  dear?  It  may  be  only  a 
rumor — a  mistake,  you  know." 

"  I  only  know  what  everybody  they  say,  and 
the  padre  he  hear  it  too.  But  we  go  to  fight, 
senora.  Hunter  he  go  to  San  Francisco  and  pay 
a  lawyer.  We  all  give  all  our  moneys,  and  it  is 
for  that,  seuora,  I  come.  I  must  make  some 
moneys,  too,  tp  help.  I  no  know  how  till  I  think 
of  you,  and  then  I  think,  perhaps  you  give  me 
some  work.  I  sewing  very  well,  senora." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  95 

"  I  will  give  you  sewing,  certainly.  Sometimes 
I  sew,  myself,  and  I  brought  some  fine  linen  with, 
me  to  make  into  underclothes.  But  I  am  in  no 
mood  for  sewing ;  reading  distracts  me  more ;  and 
you  shall  make  the  things.  No,  do  not  thank  me 
—I  am  very  glad  to  have  some  one  to  do  the  work. 
But  I  want  them  made  like  one  I  have."  She 
went  into  the  next  room  and  returned  with  a  deli 
cate  chemise,  tucked  by  hand,  its  pattern  almost 
lost  in  a  bewildering  maze  of  lace  and  ribbon.  "  I 
like  this  better  than  any  I  have,  I  think." 

Poor  Carmelita !  Her  hopes  had  suddenly  van 
ished,  like  a  mirage  too  closely  approached.  Her 
rough  fingers  could  never  fashion  that  tender,  in 
tricate  thing ;  no  needle  had  ever  been  made  which 
would  not  tear  it  with  every  puncture ! 

"  I  no  can  do  it !  "  she  almost  sobbed. 

"So  I  thought,"  said  the  lady;  "but  you  can 
easily  learn.  Instead  of  taking  the  stuff  home 
you  can  come  here  every  day  and  I  will  soon 
teach  you  how  to  cut  and  sew  them.  They  are 
the  simplest  things  in  the  world  when  you  know 
how.  And  I  shall  enjoy  teaching  you." 

"You  think  I  can?"  said  Carmelita,  drying  her 


96  LOS   CERRITOS. 

eyes.  u  Perhaps.  The  padre  he  say  I  can  do  it 
all  what  I  want." 

The  woman  folded  the  garment  and  laid  it  on 
the  divan  beside  her.  "  Have  you  a  good  padre 
here?"  she  asked. 

Carmelita's  eyes  flashed  with  enthusiastic  fire. 
Her  hostess  had  touched  a  responsive  chord. 
"  There  no  is  another  padre  in  the  world  so  good," 
she  cried,  "  I  love  him  and  he  love  me.  He  teach 
me  all  I  know." 

Was  it  imagination,  or  did  those  cool,  green 
eyes  suddenly  unlock  their  prisoned  fires?  Car- 
melita  winked  her  own  rapidly ;  she  felt  as  if  they 
were  being  scorched.  Then  a  curtain  dipped  in 
ice-water  seemed  to  wave  suddenly  between  her 
and  this  woman.  The  voice  that  answered  was 
colder  still.  "Yes?  You  love  the  padre  and  the 
padre  loves  you?" 

"  Dio  mio!  "  thought  the  girl.  "  I  do  something 
no  right.  What  it  can  be?"  But  she  answered 
out  of  the  straightforwardness  of  her  nature. 

"  Yes,  we  love  each  other  very  much,  senora.  Si 
he  was  my  own  father  I  no  could  love  him  more; 
and  he  love  me  because  he  no  have  other  in  the 


LOS  CERR1TOS.  97 

world  to  love.  And  lie  no  is  happy,  sefiora. 
I  know  that.  He  come  from  the  worjd,  the  great 
cities  far  off,  and  something  terreeblay  happen  to 
him  there.  I  know!  But  I  wish  I  know  what. 
But  he  treat  me  always  like  the  child.  He  love 
me,  but  I  am  only  the  little  girl  he  teach  and  pro- 
tec.  When  I  try  to  go  near,  it  is  like  a  great 
adobe  wall  jump  up  before  him." 

The  woman's  eyes  had  recalled  their  fires,  and 
were  soft  and  dreamy.  She  bent  over  Carmelita, 
her  firm  mouth  trembling.  "  But  you  must  have 
given  him  much  comfort,"  she  whispered.  "  I  shall 
love  you  for  that— I  love  those  who  help  others; 
they  are  so  few ;  and  I  feel  sure  that  you  can  give 
me  comfort  also." 

The  icy  curtain  had  lifted  and  vanished  in 
vapor.  Carmelita  put  up  her  hand  impulsively 
and  took  that  of  the  woman.  "  I  love  you,"  she 
said.  "Will  you  let  me  kiss  you  sometimes? 
The  padre  never  will." 

The  woman  swept  her  lithe  body  downward  and 
taking  the  girl's  warm  eager  face  between  her 
little,  strong  hands,  kissed  her  on  cheek  and  brow. 


98  LOS  CERRITOS, 


XL 

A  PAGE  FROM  THE  BOOK  OF  LIFE. 

THE  next  morning  Carmelita  went  again  to 
Linda  vista  and  took  her  first  lesson  in  fine  sewing. 
The  lesson  was  the  hardest  of  her  life,  but  she 
was  sustained  by  the  glory  of  her  cause,  and  she 
liked  her  teacher.  Hunter  started  the  same  day 
for  San  Francisco,  and  the  seiiora  told  Carmelita 
that  if  he  returned  with  the  word  that  a  fight  was 
inevitable,  she  should  have  the  price  of  her  work 
on  a  dozen  garments  at  once. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  I  exact  in  return,"  she 
said.  "  You  must  not  describe  me  or  my  rooms 
to  any  one.  I  have  come  here  to  get  away  from 
the  world  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  annoyed  by 
curiosity  and  visitors." 

"Can  I  no  tell  the  padre?"  asked  Carmelita 
coaxingly.  "  I  like  tell  him." 

"No." 

"  But  he  no  would  noy  you,  senora  mia." 


LOS  CERRITOS.  99 

u  It  is  my  wish,  Carmelita.  Will  you  respect  it? " 
"  Si,  si,"  said  the  girl,  ready  to  promise  any 
thing.  "  I  no  tell  any  one."  She  pricked  her  fin 
ger  at  this  juncture,  and  for  a  few  moments  her 
mind  did  not  rise  above  linen  cambric.  Suddenly 
she  looked  up  with  a  flash  of  anticipation  leaping 
from  the  depths  of  her  eyes. 

"  Senora,"  she  said  eagerly,  "  you  come  from  the 
world,  no?  Tell  me  of  it.  The  padre  he  no  will 
tell  me  nothing.  What  is  a  city?  What  are  like 
the  people  who  are  there?  Oh,  tell  me,  senora. 
I  no  know  nothing  at  all." 

"  Hajrpy  you  are  that  you  do  not.  I  wish  my 
story  were  as  short  as  yours." 

"  But  tell  me,  senora.  Tell  me !  Tell  me !  " 
The  lady,  diverted  by  the  girl's  impetuosity, 
and  willing  to  amuse  and  astonish  her,  filled  the 
morning  hours  with  a  vivid  and  detailed  account 
of  a  great  city's  many  phases.  Of  its  vice  and  its 
crimes  she  barely  hinted;  there  was  no  need  to 
spoil  the  picture ;  but  she  told  of  the  gay  round 
of  fashionable  society,  of  the  splendid  palaces  rich 
men  built,  and  the  lavish  entertainments  held 
therein ;  of  the  theatre,  the  opera,  the  wonders  of 


IOO  LOS  CERRITOS, 

the  human  voice,  and  of  the  marvellous  sounds 
that  men  had  learned  to  draw  from  brass  and  wood. 
She  described  the  busy  streets  with  their  gay 
shops,  their  varied  carriages,  their  richly  dressed 
throngs  of  strong  men  and  handsome  women.  She 
pictured  the  great  markets  stacked  with  delica 
cies  whose  names  carried  no  meaning  through 
Carmelita's  thrilling  ears ;  the  hotels  where  whole 
families  lived  suspended  in  air;  the  libraries,  the 
art  galleries,  and  the  luxurious  restaurants.  Her 
audience  made  no  pretence  to  go  on  with  her 
work.  She  sat  with  rigid  fingers  locked  and  eyes 
expanding.  She  was  bewildered,  fascinated,  half 
disposed  to  doubt,  yet  responding  with  the  instinct 
of  civilization  her  mother  had  given  her.  The 
lecturer  was  made  to  recapitulate  her  descriptions 
again  and  again.  Suddenly  an  angry  gleam  shot 
through  Carmelita's  eyes. 

"And  the  Sefior  Tremaine,"  she  interrupted; 
"  what  kind  of  a  house  he  have? " 

The  senora  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "  What 
do  you  know  of  him? "  she  asked. 

"  He  is  the  man  who  go  to  take  our  haciendas— 
who  buy  the  rancho,"  exclaimed  Carmelita  fiercely. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  IOI 

"Alexander  Tremaine!  I  know  him  slightly, 
but  I  don't  like  his  wife.  So  he  is  the  man  to 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  my  little  seamstress.  It 
is  amusing  to  watch  the  links  of  a  chain." 

"  Tell  me  what  kind  of  a  house  he  have,"  said 
Carmelita,  who  was  a  philosopher  in  her  own  way, 
but  not  given  to  abstract  reasoning. 

u  One  of  the  finest  in  San  Francisco.  In  fact  I 
know  of  nothing  that  surpasses  it.  With  the 
grounds  it  covers  nearly  a  block  and  he  has  proba 
bly  spent  two  million  dollars  on  it.  The  picture 
gallery  is  one  of  the  finest  in  America;  .certainly 
there  is  nothing  on  this  coast  to  compare  with  it. 
He  is  one  of  the  richest  men  in  California — must 
be  worth  $15,000,000  at  least.  His  wife  has  great 
taste  and  has  been  abroad  many  times.  I  do  not 
like  her,  but  I  must  admit  that  she  has  furnished 
one  of  the  most  exquisite  houses  I  have  seen 
in  America." 

"  How  he  make  all  that  money  ? "  demanded 
Carmelita.  "He  work  on  the  farms?  or  he  pan 
the  gold  out  the  creek  like  the  Chinamens  ? " 

"  Oh,  he  did  not  make  it  at  all.  His  father  left 
it  to  him." 


102  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  And  how  his  father  make  ? " 

"Really,  my  dear  —  oh  —  yes  —  I  believe  he 
bought  large  varas  of  land  in  San  Francisco  in 
early  days,  and  they  increased  wonderfully  in 
value.  Tremaine  also  owns  a  whole  country  town 
somewhere.  His  rents  are  enormous." 

"And  this  man," — gasped  Carmelita,  her  face 
blazing  with  rage — "  this  man  who  have  cities  and 
towns  and  have  a  house  big  like  an  acre,  and  a 
mountain  of  gold,  this  man  go  to  take  from  us 
our  little  farms?  Oh!  he  no  can  do  it!  The  law 
no  letting  him.  He  is  thief,  murderer — for  the 
children  they  starve.  0  senora!  It  no  can  be! 
How  he  is  so  cruelle." 

The  lady  was  puzzled  how  to  reply.  Her  sym 
pathies  were  with  poverty  and  suffering  always; 
but  a  man  surely  had  a  right  to  buy  what  land  he 
chose  if  he  found  the  title  clear. 

"  My  dear  girl,  I  hope  you  will  win  your  suit," 
she  said;  "but  if  you  lose,  Tremaine  will  not  be  a 
villain  if  he  takes  what  the  law  gives  him.  You 
see  he  will  not  get  this  ranch  for  nothing ;  he  will 
pay  one  or  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  it, 
at  the  very  least.  And  if  he  pays,  he  surely  has  a 


LOS   CERRITOS.  103 

right  to  the  land.  Cannot  you  move  to  some  place 
near  here — some  other  ranch?  " 

"  There  no  is  more  Government  land  for  forty 
miles,  'cept  the  redwood  mountains,  and  we  no 
can  farm  in  them,"  said  Carmelita  sullenly.  "  All 
— all  the  ranchos  are  own  by  three  or  four  rich 
mens  who  raise  wheat  or  cattle  to  sell,  for  they  no 
can  use.  You  say  we  all  are  make  alike,  senora. 
You  who  are  white  and  beautiful  are  make  like 
me  with  my  broxvn  skin  and  my  rough  feet.  Si 
we  all  are  make  alike,  God  intend  we  all  have 
alike.  We  no  pay  Him,  for  the  land  is  His. 
Why  then  we  pay  the  mens,  or  the  mens  pay  and 
take  from  us?  You  no  pay  for  your  hair  and 
skin,  senora.  Why  you  pay  for  the  land  that 
make  the  food  to  keep  you  alive  ? " 

"  My  dear  child,"  cried  the  lady  with  a  laugh, 
"  I  cannot  reason  with  you.  I  do  not  think  I 
should  be  pleased  if  all  men  were  alike.  Where 
would  be  the  excitement  of  life,  the  power,  the 
pride  of  birth?  Caste  fascinates  its  favorites,  my 
child.  I  have  no  desire  to  do  my  own  washing  or 
live  in  a  hut  exactly  like  my  neighbor's.  But  let 
us  talk  of  something  else.  Tell  me  about  your- 


104  LOS   CERRITOS. 

self  — your  history,  your  life.  I  want  to  know 
all  about  you.  Lucia  said  that  you  were  the 
daughter  of  Joaquin  Murietta.  Tell  me  the  whole 
story.  I  long  to  hear  a  real  romance." 

"I  hate  the  Sefior  don  Alejandro  Tremaine!" 
said  Carmelita  through  her  teeth. 

"  Come,  come,  think  no  more  about  him.  I  am 
sure  you  will  win  the  day."  And  by  degrees  she 
succeeded  in  diverting  Carmelita's  mind,  and  drew 
from  her  all  there  was  to  tell.  She  was  deeply 
interested  and  gratified  to  learn  that  the  girl  had 
gentle  blood  in  her  veins.  That  accounted  for  the 
indulgence  and  sympathy  she  had  felt  from  the 
first.  Carmelita,  after  much  hesitation,  confided  her 
own  romance,  with  its  unique  but  steadfast  hero. 
The  subtle  pleasure  of  woman's  friendship,  known 
for  the  first  time,  thawed  her  natural  reserve ;  she 
succumbed  to  its  potent  and  historic  influence 
and  told  the  tale  of  that  mountain  betrothal. 

The  woman  listened  with  an  amazement  which 
had  in  it  the  pungent  flavor  of  a  new  sensation. 
"  Carmelita !  "  she  exclaimed  when  the  girl  had 
concluded,  "do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  such  a 
love  as  that  satisfies  you? " 


LOS   CERRITOS.  105 

"  Yes,"  said  Carmelita  calmly.  "  Is  lie  no  strong 
and  beautiful  and  grand?  and  will  he  no  love  me 
when  all  mens  are  rotted  in  their  graves?  I  stand 
under  his  arms  when  the  rain  pour  down  and  it  no 
touch  me.  I  get  behind  him  when  the  cold  wind 
fly  through  the  forest  and  I  no  feel  it  at  all.  He 
take  care  me  alway.  I  tell  him  all  my  troubles  and 
he  whisper  to  me  and  I  no  mind.  I  kissing  him 
and  I  feel  sad  and  lonely  no  more." 

The  woman,  whose  very  memory  of  love  still 
shook  her  in  the  night's  ]ong  hours,  made  no 
further  attempt  to  analyze  this  girl's  simple  yet 
unaccountable  nature.  There  was  nothing  to  do 
but  take  her  as  she  was,  and  enjoy  the  novelty  of 
the  experience.  When  Carmelita  rose  to  go  she 
held  her  hand  for  a  moment. 

"I  wish  you  to  call  me  by  my  name — Geral- 
dine,"  she  said.  "  Who  knows? — my  mother  may 
have  known  your  own;  she  lived  in  Santa  Bar 
bara  at  one  time." 

This  was  drawing  the  line  of  imagination  pretty 
tight,  but  it  pleased  Carmelita.  She  threw  both 
arms  around  her  new  friend,  and  kissed  her  on 
either  cheek.  "  Geraldina — Geraldinita,"  she  said. 


106  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"Iliketho  name.  I  like  much  better  call  you 
that  than  SeTiora.  And  next  to  my  tree  and  the 
padre,  I  like  you  better  than  any  one  in  the 
woild  I  have  ever  know." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  IO/ 


XII 

A   WEARY   YEAK. 

HUNTER  returned  at  the  end  of  two  weeks  with 
confirmation  of  every  fear.  Alexander  Tremaine 
claimed  to  possess  a  deed  and  grant  without  flaws 
and  would  fight  the  squatters  straight  over  the 
boundary  line  of  the  Cerritos  Rancho.  Hunter 
had  placed  the  squatters'  case  in  the  hands  of  as 
able  a  lawyer  as  they  could  afford  to  pay.  When, 
therefore,  a  few  days  later  the  notice  came  to  quit 
they  paid  no  attention;  and  the  lawsuit  which 
lasted  throughout  the  following  year  became  one 
of  the  most  celebrated  in  the  annals  of  the  State. 
The  San  Franciscans  who  read  its  details  over 
their  morning  coffee  had  that  vague,  picturesque 
idea  of  the  belligerent  squatters  natural  to  the 
city-bred  man  who  regards  the  country  as  having 
been  made  for  shooting  and  fishing  purposes  alone. 
For  one  who  has  passed  the  greater  part  of  his 
life  in  San  Francisco  it  is  particularly  hard  to 


108  LOS   CERRITOS. 

grasp  the  meaning  of  the  word  poverty  in  its  most 
significent  sense.  There  is  so  little  there.  One 
never  sees  a  barefooted  newsboy,  and  rarely  hears 
of  death  from  want  of  bread.  The  city  is  too 
young  for  tenement  houses  and  swarming  alleys. 
That  actual  starvation  should  menace  any  band 
of  people  so  wise  as  to  have  pitched  their  tents  on 
California's  rich  abundant  soil  was  a  deduction 
which  never  presented  itself  to  the  average  mind ; 
the  squatters  would  have  to  move  on  and  camp 
elsewhere,  that  was  all. 

But  that  was  a  bitter  year  on  the  Cerritos. 
Hope  leaped  or  flickered,  only  to  die  again  and 
again.  The  farmers  saw  their  little  hoards  slowly 
diminishing,  the  padre  gave  all  his  store,  even 
Geraldine  contributed  much  of  her  small  income ; 
but  she  could  not  touch  her  principal  and  the  de 
mands  upon  her  were  many.  She  had  been  rich 
once,  she  told  Carmelita,  but  trustees  had  mis 
managed  and  she  had  little  now.  The  year  was 
not  a  profitable  one  and  it  began  to  look  as  if  the 
scale  must  soon  balance  between  lawyers'  fees  and 
bread  for  the  children.  At  the  Aguitas,  good- 
natured  faces  no  longer  gathered  about  the  bar  or 


LOS   CERRITOS.  IOQ 

fire  to  discuss  the  affairs  of  neighboring  ranches. 
Occasionally  the  men  met,  but  their  faces  were 
sullen  or  sad,  according  to  their  natures,  and  the 
black  hopelessness  of  the  future  turned  their  in 
frequent  dram  to  wormwood.  The  faculty  of 
representativeness  may  not  burn  brightly  in  the 
brain  of  the  goundling,  but  there  are  few  so  men 
tally  clipped  that  they  cannot  while  grappling 
with  ruin  anticipate  the  hungry  wails  of  their 
children  and  the  despair  of  their  wives. 

During  the  months  when  the  incessant  rain  kept 
her  from  the  mountain,  Carmelita  divided  her 
time  between  Geraldine  and  the  padre.  She  was 
too  restless  to  remain  alone,  and  at  home  they  did 
not  need  her.  Above  her  terror  of  the  future 
towered  the  sense  of  wrong,  dwarfing  it  as  might 
an  oak  a  shrub.  She  hated  the  man  who  had  be 
come  the  arbiter  of  this  settlement's  destiny  as  she 
would  have  hated  some  strange,  poisonous  weed 
which  had  suddenly  appeared  in  the  forest  to 
strife  her  redwoods  to  death.  She  brooded  over 
the  picture  Geraldine  had  painted  of  his  wealth 
and  magnificence  until  it  stood  as  vividly  within 
her  mental  camera  as  if  her  actual  vision  had 


110  LOS  CERRITOS. 

aclied  before  it.  For  the  first  time  she  began  to 
feel  some  regard  for  Castro.  Had  it  been  possible, 
the  ferocious  young  giant's  hatred  for  the  usurper 
was  deeper  and  more  deadly  than  hers.  As  he 
strode  up  and  down  the  Espinozas'  living-room 
working  and  crunching  his  enormous  jaws  as  if 
his  arch-enemy  were  between  them  and  fighting 
the  air  with  his  hairy  iron  fists  Carmelita  re 
spected  and  almost  liked  him,  despite  the  repug 
nance  which  made  her  very  flesh  shrink  when, 
encouraged  by  a  sympathetic  flash  in  her  eyes,  he 
approached  too  near.  But  those  few  approving 
glances  annihilated  all  memory  of  disdain,  and 
side  by  side  with  Castro's  hatred  the  fierce  love 
grew  and  flourished.  Castro  being  the  acknowl 
edged  leader  of  the  squatters  it  was  understood 
that  if  the  law  went  against  them  his  judgment 
should  shape  their  course.  The  case  was  decided 
for  Tremame  during  the  winter,  but  the  squatters 
were  prepared  for  this  and  appealed  immediately 
to  the  Supreme  Court.  The  result  was  awaited 
with  a  torturing  anxiety  which  paralyzed  their 
energies,  and  Carmelita  grew  to  believe  that  every 
misery  of  life  had  drifted  to  her  corner  of  the 


LOS  CERRITOS.  lit 

world  and  dwelt  in  the  heavy  clouds  which  hung 
all  winter  above  the  Cerritos  Eanch.  The  sullen 
boom  of  the  river  seemed  ever  muttering  the  tid 
ings  of  woe,  and  the  lamenting  wind  that  flew 
past  the  adobe  walls  came  straight  from  the  heart 
of  Nature,  breaking  for  her  children.  Never  had 
the  rain  fallen  so  ceaselessly.  The  crops  were 
almost  swamped,  and  the  river's  boom  rose  to 
thunder,  threatening  to  leap  above  its  banks  and 
snatch  this  people's  fate  from  the  hands  -of  Alex 
ander  Tremaine. 

For  three  months  Carmelita  had  not  been  to  her 
forest;  she  dared  not  trust  the  roads  with  their 
treacherous  bogs.  An  innocent  puddle  might  be 
as  hungry  as  a  quicksand,  and  more  than  one  cow 
wandered  forth  that  winter  never  to  return. 
Geraldine  thought  it  best  not  to  lend  her  novels, 
but  she  diverted  her  mind  through  long  hours 
with  the  romantic  episodes  of  history  and  Car 
melita  promptly  renamed  all  her  redwoods  after 
the  heroes  of  antiquity.  Geraldine  could  talk  with 
a  certain  picturesque  swiftness  when  she  chose, 
and  her  ardent  young  admirer  often  forgot  the 
future  and  fled  at  her  bidding  into  the  past. 


112  LOS  CERRITOS. 

When  spring  came  the  sun  marshalled  the 
clouds  into  battalions  and  routed  them  from  the 
field,  the  river  sank,  and  slowly  the  earth  dried. 
But  the  wind  was  sharp  and  the  squatters  shiv 
ered  around  their  wet  logs.  Within  their  bodies 
the  fires  were  feebler  yet,  for  food  was  becoming 
scarce  and  more  scarce  and  the  rags  on  the  backs 
of  the  women  and  children  were  scanty  and  thin. 

"Even  si  we  win,"  thought  Carmelita,  as  she 
crouched  by  the  hearth  one  day,  "  we  no  will  have 
nothing  left  but  a  roof  to  our  heads.  The  chil- 
drens  go  to  die  now  and  we  no  will  have  one  cents 
left  to  buy  good  food  and  make  them  like  they 
are  a  year  ago.  Ah!  los  pobrecitos,  they  are  so 
pretty  and  so  gay  before." 

She  went  suddenly  out  of  the  door;  it  was 
misery,  in  her  helplessness,  to  watch  them.  The 
snow  on  the  mountains  filled  the  air  with  unseen 
icicles ;  but  she  was  unusually  robust  and  as  she 
ran  down  the  road  the  blood  warmed  in  her  veins. 
The  sparkling  atmosphere  seemed  vibrant  with 
life.  It  touched  her  nerves  with  electric  thrill. 
She  threw  back  her  head  and  inhaled  deep 
draughts  and  for  the  moment  reeled  as  if  a  golden 


LOS   CERRITOS.  113 

pungent  liquor  had  fired  her  throat.  Nature  was 
awake  and  dominant  once  more.  Already  she 
was  standing  before  a  great  mirror  below  smiling 
at  her  radiant  face  while  handmaidens  girded 
her  loins  with  the  flowered  robe  and  laid  the  man 
tle  of  green  on  her  shoulders.  In  the  radiating 
galleries  the  flowers  yawned  in  their  cells  and 
awoke,  then  sprang  eagerly  to  the  golden  chests 
and  danced  into  their  gala  gowns.  The  soul-birds 
choired  memoirs  of  amorous  springs,  and  Nature 
sighed  in  her  fair  triumphant  isolation. 

When  Carmelita  reached  the  Mission,  she  went 
within  and  said  a  prayer,  then  sought  the  padre. 
He  was  not  in  his  house,  and  she  wandered  back 
to  the  Mission  and  strayed  through  the  cells  and 
cloisters.  In  one  room  was* a  chest  of  battered 
saints,  the  nearest  approach  to  dolls  she  had  ever 
known.  Many  an  hour  she  had  spent  with  them 
in  her  childhood,  and  she  had  a  fancy  to  look  at 
them  once  more.  She  took  out  the  poor  old  saints 
and  stood  them  on  end  and  told  them  the  legends 
of  their  nativity.  But  the  cloisters  had  cast  their 
shadows  over  her,  the  farce  was  a  hollow  one,  and 
she  soon  re-buried  the  saints  decent! v  in  their 


114  LOS   CERRITOS. 

sepulchre  and  dropped  the  lid  above  them.  Then 
she  rummaged  through  another  chest.  She  re 
membered  that  she  had  once  found  some  curious 
old  picture  books  whose  glaring  colors  had  in 
spired  her  with  a  firm  and  lasting  contempt  for  the 
simulator  of  Nature.  Among  the  mass  of  rub 
bish  a  bit  of  blue  paper  suddenly  caught  her  eye, 
and  she  took  it  to  the  window,  the  better  to  de 
cipher  the  faded  words,  written  in  Spanish. 

"  This  is  to  certify  that  Juan  Arguello,  son  of 
Jose  Maria  and'  Carlotta  Arguello,  was  this  day 
baptized  in  the  Mission  of  San  Ysidro,  in  the 
coasts  of  California.  June  the  8th,  1780. 

"FRANCIS  JUNIPERO  SERRA." 

Unbooked  as  Carmelita  was  in  the  minor  results 
of  civilization,  instinct  told  her  that  this  bit  of  old 
paper,  signed  by  a  famous  name,  had  its  value 
and  her  heart  throbbed  with  hope.  She  might  be 
able  to  sell  it  and  buy  clothes  for  the  children. 
At  all  events  she  would  consult  the  padre. 

She  thrust  it  into  her  blouse  and  rambling 
through  the  church  once  more  passed  out  on  to  the 
wide  porch  with  its  sunken  Hoor  and  tumbling  pil- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  II 5 

lars.  She  stood  for  a  moment  shading  her  eyes 
with  her  hand.  Not  a  house  could  be  seen.  The 
broad  expanse  of  land,  green  with  the  recent  com 
ing  of  spring  and  sparkling  with  bright,  awakening 
eyes,  undulated  away  like  an  arrested  sea  to  the 
distant  snow-touched  blue-veiled  mountains.  Car- 
melita  locked  her  hands  above  her  eyes  with  a 
quick  angry  sob.  It  was  all  so  beautiful  and 
peaceful.  How  could  Nature  open  her  chests  and 
don  her  jewels  and  flaunting  robes  and  smile 
and  smirk  at  her  reflection  in  the  stars  above 
when  she  had  denied  her  children  food?  For  a 
moment  Carmelita  almost  hated  that  capricious 
incomprehensible  empress  of  all  men's  destiny. 

She  dropped  her  hands  with  an  impatient  move 
ment  of  her  head  and  took  the  certificate  from 
her  bosom.  Did  gold  lie  behind  that  bit  of  paper? 
If  the  padre  thought  so  she  would  have  her  uncle 
give  it  to  the  stage  driver  to  sell  in  the  nearest 
town.  An  inarticulate  murmuring  caught  her  ear 
and  she  lifted  her  head,  recognizing  the  so  and. 
On  the  edge  of  the  porch  in  the  shadow  of  one  of 
the  pillars  couched  an  object  which  tradition  said 
was  once  a  man.  A  shrunken  form  shaking  with 


Il6  LOS   CERRITOS. 

the  hideous  palsy  of  senile  age;  bleached  well- 
nigh  sightless  eye-balls  wandering  vacantly  in  their 
reddened  caverns ;  scattered  strands  of  lank  white 
hair  falling  grimily  over  parchment-like  skin, 
scorched  arid  furrowed  and  beaten  with  the  suns 
and  storms  of  more  than  a  century.  And  yet  he 
had  his  fame !  He  had  helped  lay  the  corner  stone 
of  the  decaying  Mission  which  forged  his  one  con 
necting  link  with  a  forgotten  past  and  he  had 
never  been  off  the  Cerritos  Rancho !  As  the  evening 
wind  fluttered  the  blue  paper  between  Carmelita's 
fingers  he  made  a  feeble  lunge  at  it,  his  toothless 
gums  working  voraciously,  a  faint  leer  overspread 
ing  his  ghostly  features.  All  other  senses  mouldy 
with  the  decay  of  generations,  appetite  reigned 
alone,  and  the  one  impulse  left  in  the  pulp  of  what 
had  been  his  brain  was  to  eat  whatever  fell  within 
the  range  of  the  pale  night  lamps  of  his  vision. 

Carmelita  put  the  paper  in  her  dress  again. 
"  No,  no,  you  no  can  have,"  she  said  to  the  old  In 
dian.  "But  come  to  the  house  of  the  padre. 
Perhaps  I  find  some  frijoles  in  the  pot." 

The  words  were  given  to  the  wdnd,  for  he  had 
forgotten  the  sounds  of  the  world  before  her 


LOS   CERRITOS.  1 1/ 

tongue  had  learned  its  use,  but  they  were  accom 
panied  by  a  gesture  he  understood,  and  he  dragged 
himself  up  by  the  pillar  and  tottered  after  her. 

As  she  turned  the  corner  of  the  Mission,  she 
came  suddenly  upon  the  padre.  He  had  oldened 
more  during  the  past  year  than  in  all  the  preced 
ing  nine,  but  Carmelita  had  never  seen  him  look 
as  he  looked  to-day.  She  threw  out  her  hands  as 
if  warding  off  a  blow,  then  covering  her  eyes 
cowered  before  him. 

"  It  is  all  over,"  he  said.  "  The  Supreme  Court 
has  decided  for  Tremaine.  The  rich  man  has  con 
quered  and  you  must  go." 

He  passed  her  and  went  into  the  Mission,  and 
Carmelita,  obeying  a  blind  instinct,  flew  down  the 
road  to  her  home.  But  not  to  the  house.  She 
ran  to  the  corral  and  bridling  the  mustang  sprang 
on  its  back  and  sped  to  the  mountain.  On  and 
on  she  dashed,  over  hill  and  field,  forgetful  of  bogs, 
regardless  of  angry  cattle,  iintil  the  mountain  rose 
above  her.  Up  the  soft  trail  she  toiled,  until, 
taking  pity  on  the  panting  protesting  mustang, 
she  sprang  to  the  ground  and  finished  the  journey 
on  foot,  pulling  herself  upward  by  the  chaparral 


Il8  LOS   CERRITOS. 

and  young  trees  until  at  last  she  stood  beneath 
her  Redwood.  With  a  cry  that  rang  through 
those  winter-hushed  aisles  she  sprang  forward 
and  flung  her  arms  against  him,  then  slipped  to 
the  ground,  her  embrace  unrelaxed. 

"  Oh,  speak  to  me !  speak  to  me ! "  she  cried 
with  imperious  despair.  "  I  go  where  I  can  see 
you  no  more.  For  we  going!  we  going!  Oh,  thou 
art  so  strong  and  so  calm  lift  me  up  in  thine 
arms  above  this  awful  world.  O  mi  amigo!  mi 
amigo!  the  children  they  no  have  roofs  to  their 
heads !  They  go  to  die  in  the  mud !  " 

And  the  wind  sighed  through  the  Redwood's 
branches  and  shook  down  the  raindrops  like  a 
shower  of  tears  on  Carmelita's  head. 


INTERLUDE. 

SAN   FRANCISCO. 


LOS  CERRITOS.  121 


ESTTEKLUDE. 

FEANCISCO. 


LIGHT  streamed  from  the  windows  of  a  great 
house  high  on  one  of  San  Francisco's  hills.  The 
fog  lay  thick  in  the  city's  valleys  but  only  touched 
its  crests.  Those  brave  enough  to  sit  on  the  mist- 
wreathed  dummies  glided  up  the  steep  hill-sides 
through  white  calm  seas  into  a  curve  of  starry 
dark-blue  night.  On  the  lower  city  rested  the 
luminous  ocean  pierced  by  the  white  swords  of 
the  electric  lights;  a  flashing  glimpse  of  a  weird 
night  world,  and  again  they  plunged  into  waveless 
deeps.  Again  they  rose  and  again  w^ent  down. 

Mrs.  Tremaine  gave  four  balls  during  the  season, 
and  one  directly  after  Lent  as  if  to  waft  that 
period  of  fashionable  penance  down  the  archives  of 
memory  as  quickly  as  possible.  ~No  one  received 
so  few  regrets,  and  her  claim  to  the  leadership  of 
San  Francisco's  society  was  seldom  disputed.  And 
in  truth  she  merited  her  success,  for  no  woman  in 


122  LOS   CERRITOS. 

California  was  more  clever  than  she,  and  Nature 
had  equipped  her  with  a  dainty  beauty  as  if  in 
tending  her  to  be  a  miniature  queen  in  a  miniature 
world.  Fortune  had  been  as  lavish  with  her  gifts. 
Mrs.  Tremaine's  wealth  and  position — both  cor 
relative  with  the  '50's,  and  placing  her,  conse 
quently,  among  the  old  families  of  California- 
gave  her  a  subtle  and  unassailable  power  which 
none  knew  better  how  to  wield.  She  was  too 
bright  not  to  be  exclusive  in  this  land  of  sudden 
fortunes  and  her  visiting  list  was  as  menacing  and 
responsible  as  the  Decalogue.  Moreover  she  knew 
how  to  entertain,  and  received  from  Paris  two 
trousseaux  a  year  for  other  women  to  copy. 

A  great  English  journalist  was  one  of  the  distin 
guished  guests  of  the  post-lenten  entertainment 
and  Mrs.  Tremaine  was  giving  him  a  generous 
share  of  her  mathematical  yet  charming  smiles. 
As  he  watched  her  standing  at  the  head  of  her 
great  ball-room  with  its  thousand  globes  of  light, 
and  its  mirrored  walls  reflecting  the  scene  into 
dazzling  infinity  he  wondered  if  all  California 
women  were  as  beautiful  and  as  chilling  as  she. 
The  rich  warm  tints  of  her  russet  gold  hair  made 


.      LOS   CERRITOS.  123 

the  skin  of  her  cheek  and  throat  most  white  and 
cool.  The  pouting  narrow  bow  of  her  mouth  de 
fied  yet  subtly  harmonized  with  the  cold  gray 
eyes  whose  steady  steelly  gleams  again  warred 
with  the  soft  pattering  voice  and  babyish  lisp. 

"  She  is  as  wooing  as  a  bird  in  spring  time,  and 
as  tender  as  a  domestic  kitten,"  thought  the 
journalist,  "but  she  is  as  cold  as  a  March  dawn, 
and  money  and  power  are  her  only  passions." 

"  This  ball  is  really  a  celebration,"  she  was  lisp 
ing  meanwhile.  "  We  have  just  won  a  law-suit 
which  has  annoyed  us  for  over  a  year." 

"  Yes  ?  I  am  glad  to  be  here  to  congratulate  you. 
Is  it  about  a  mine?"  he  asked  with  the  true 
Anglo-Saxon  idea  that  concrete  gold  must  figure 
in  every  transaction  of  the  Californian. 

"  No,  not  a  mine,"  she  said  folding  and  opening 
her  fan  with  a  little  graceful  curve  of  the  wrist— 
the  journalist  noticed  that  she  kept  her  thumb 
outward  as  Spanish  women  do —  "  Mr.  Tremaine 
bought  a  large  tract  of  land— about  fifty  thou 
sand  acres — in  Central  California,  over  thirteen 
months  ago,  and  there  were  a  lot  of  squatters 
on  it  who  refused  to  leave.  You  see,  the  Mexican 


124  LOS   CERRITOS. 

who  had  obtained  a  grant  for  it  in  the  days  of  the 
Spanish  dominion  had  gone  back  to  his  own 
country  and  forgotten  all  about  it.  But  his 
grandson  found  the  grant  one  day  in  an  old  desk, 
and  sent  it  to  a  San  Francisco  lawyer,  asking  him 
to  sell  the  land.  The  lawyer  happened  to  be  ours, 
and  knowing  that  my  husband  wished  to  invest 
some  money  he  mentioned  the  subject  to  him. 
As  it  chanced  Mr.  Tremaine  had  once  driven 
through  the  ranch  on  his  way  to  Southern  Cali 
fornia  and  been  much  impressed  with  its  beauty. 
So  he  bought  it  at  once,  intending  to  turn  it  into 
a  sort  of  English  park,  stock  it  with  game,  and 
build  a  big  house,  wherein  we  could  entertain  dur 
ing  the  spring  and  fall.  (At  least  those  were  my 
suggestions.  Do  not  you  think  they  were  orig 
inal?)  It  would  be  so  interesting  to  take  one's 
friends  down  in  a  special  train  and  to  entertain 
them  in  old  Spanish  style  so  far  from  town.  But 
it  seems  that  a  lot  of  native  Californians  and  half 
breeds  and  emigrants  had  '  squatted ' — I  suppose 
you  understand  our  uncouth  Americanisms — on 
the  ranch,  thinking  it  was  Government  land. 
They  refused  to  go,  insisting  that  the  grant  was 


LOS   CERRITOS.  125 

a  forgery,  and  you  have  no  idea  of  the  trouble 
they  have  given  us.  Tremaine  has  spent  a  small 
fortune  fighting  them,  but  now  both  courts  have 
decided  in  our  favor  and  they  must  go.  It  is 
annoying  that  they  did  not  go  at  once,  however; 
we  might  have  the  house  built  by  this  time." 

The  journalist  looked  down  at  the  gold  brocade 
which  seemed  cruelly  stiff  for  the  soft  dainty 
figure,  and  at  the  diamonds  that  covered  her 
neck  from  throat  to  the  delicate  rise  of  her  bust. 

"  And  what  will  the  miserable  wretches  do? "  he 
asked,  for  he  came  from  the  land  where  poverty 
sits  supreme  on  her  rag-draped  throne. 

Mrs.  Tremaine  opened  her  softly  valenced  eyes, 
"  Do?  Why  they  will  have  to  go  somewhere  else; 
that  is  all." 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  these  people  may 
be  suddenly  left  without  bread  to  eat  or  the 
wherewith  to  build  another  roof  above  their 
heads?"  he  asked,  not  from  a  desire  to  rebuke 
her,  but  out  of  curiosity  to  sound  her  nature. 
Moreover  he  had  the  slow  indulgent  English  voice, 
which  blunted  every  sting. 

She  gave  a  little  pout.  "  What  nonsense!  There 


126  LOS   CERRITOS. 

are  plenty  of  trees — or  mud  rather,  for  that  is 
what  they  make  their  houses  of  —  adobe,  you 
know.  And  they  always  eat  beans,  and  beans  are 
cheap.  I  never  eat  them,  but  I  am  sure  they  are. 
Tremaine  will  probably  take  them  down  a  barrel 
or  two  of  flour  and  some  woollen  shirts.  He  is 
very  good-natured." 

The  journalist  was  aghast.  He  saw  that  she 
had  not  an  approximate  idea  of  poverty  or  suffer 
ing.  Did  he  give  his  imagination  wings  and  draw 
with  letters  of  fire  the  fate  of  those  homeless 
outcasts,  she  would  stifle  a  yawn  and  vote  him  a 
bore.  He  regarded  her  with  much  curiosity. 

"  And  the  warm  weather  is  coming  now,"  she 
babbled  on,  "  so  they  won't  mind  sleeping  out  of 
doors — for  the  matter  of  that  there  are  always 
sheds  in  the  country." 

"  But  I  thought  middle  and  southern  California 
were  very  hot  during  the  summer? " 

"  Yes ;  I  believe  so ;  but  those  sort  of  people — 
Mexicans,  you  know — never  mind  hot  weather. 
They  muffle  themselves  up  in  woollen  comforters 
in  summer  on  the  principle  that  what  will  keep 
out  the  cold  must  also  exclude  the  heat." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  I2/ 

Then  several  late  comers  claimed  her  attention, 
and  the  journalist  strolled  through  the  beautiful 
rooms  in  search  of  his  host. 

X  X  X  X  X  * 

Alexander  Tremame  was  walking  up  and  down 
his  library,  his  hands  thrust  almost  savagely  in 
his  pockets,  his  heavy  eyes  dwelling  on  many 
things  besides  his  luxurious  surroundings.  The 
music  crept  like  a  sigh  through  the  thick  por 
tieres  and  the  light  brilliance  of  his  wife's  enter 
tainment  seemed  to  turn  ever  and  recede  before  it 
reached  the  doors  of  this  dark  book-lined  room. 
He  was  a  young  man,  thirty-six  at  most,  but  en 
thusiasm  had  left  his  eyes  and  the  expression  of 
his  mouth  was  generally  listless  or  cynical.  His 
heavy  lids  gave  him  an  appearance  of  extreme 
physical  and  mental  languor  until  a  close  observer 
looked  beneath  and  was  startled  by  the  latent 
power  in  those  light  cold  blue  eyes  or  surprised 
to  meet  a  humorous  twinkle.  His  black  heavy 
brows,  whose  occasional  long  hair  defied  the 
brush,  added  to  the  sullen  repose  of  his  face  but 
seemed  to  curve  to  a  thread  when  he  smiled.  A 
prominent  nose  and  square  chin  gave  great  dignity 


128  LOS   CERRITOS. 

to  his  expression,  and  his  tall  figure  was  erect  and 
stalwart.  His  closely  cut  black  hair  had  a  cer 
tain  vitality  in  keeping  with  the  free  play  of  his 
muscles  as  he  walked.  To-night  there  was  some 
thing  unusually  restless  in  his  movements,  as  he 
strode  up  and  down,  forgetting  his  wife's  guests, 

conjuring  possible  futures,  and  trying  to  scratch 

• 

characters  on  the  blank  sheets.  He  was  young, 
he  had  a  colossal  fortune,  he  acknowledged  no 
man's  superiority,  most  paths  were  strewn  with 
thorn-stripped  roses  at  his  approach,  and  yet, 
shortly  after  his  thirty-sixth  birthday,  he  walked 
solitary  in  a  merry  throng,  wondering  what  he 
was  to  do  with  the  rest  of  his  life,  lonely  as  any 
exile  who  passed  his  scintillating  mansion  with  a 
rebellious  oath. 

He  had  started  in  life  with  many  ideals.  He 
wished  to  be  a  reformer,  a  wise  and  self -abnegat 
ing  statesman,  a  friend  of  the  people,  a  swayer  of 
the  thoughts  of  men.  He  knew  no  more  of  poverty 
in  those  days  than  any  other  Californian,  but  he 
was  a  student  of  political  economy  and  a  wor 
shipper  of  Shelley.  When  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
two  he  found  himself  in  unconditioned  posses- 


LOS  CERRITOS.  129 

sion  of  Ms  father's  vast  fortune  he  determined  to 
realize  his  ideals  and  that  he  might  begin  at  the 
root  of  politics  ran  at  once  for  the  Legislature  of 
his  State.  To  his  amazement  and  disgust  he  found 
that  he  must  buy  his  election  as  he  bought  his 
horses  and  servants.  If  he  finally  consented  to 
"  interview  a  boss  "  and  negotiate  for  his  victory 
it  was  because  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
to  accomplish  a  great  deed  some  means  must  be 
overlooked.  It  is  needless  to  give  the  details  of 
his  political  career.  It  lasted  five  years  and  three 
were  passed  in  Washington.  Then  he  withdrew, 
disheartened,  worn  out  with  futile  anger,  his  faith 
in  disinterested,  single-purposed  human  nature 
gone  forever.  He  went  to  New  York  to  stand 
aghast  before  the  raging  sleepless  epidemic  for 
wealth.  Those  everlasting  monotonous  rows  of 
brown-stone  houses,  eloquent  of  imagination 
burned  dry  under  the  scorching  breath  of  that 
fever's  sirocco,  not  a  hand's  width  of  grass  before 
them  lest  so  many  precious  shekels  should  be  lost ! 
"Money!"  shrieked  the  flying  trains  as  they 
plunged  into  the  crowded  reeking  districts  of 

squalor.     "  Money !  "   absently  muttered  the  f ur- 
9 


130  LOS   CERRITOS. 

wrapped  man  on  the  hotel  steps  as  he  waited  for 
the  bare-footed  news-boy  to  give  him  change. 
"  Money ! "  sang  the  very  air  in  endless  echo. 
Tremaine  wrote  a  half  dozen  pamphlets  and  spent 
a  respectable  fortune  among  the  tenement  wretches. 
At  the  end  of  six  months  he  questioned  whether 
he  had  done  any  good.  No  other  rich  man  had 
responded  to  his  call,  the  funny-paragraphers  had 
paid  their  debts  with  his  enthusiasms,  and  the  poor 
were  as  poor  as  ever.  Once  more  determined  to  go 
to  the  root  of  things,  he  crossed  to  England  and 
plunged  into  the  thick  of  Socialism.  He  stayed 
there  two  years.  He  attended  every  meeting  of 
importance  and  many  whose  doings  were  never 
chronicled;  he  talked  with  every  great  reformer, 
and  allowed  himself  to  be  buttonholed  by  every 
long-haired,  illogical  enthusiast  who  chose  to  spoil 
the  shape  of  his  coat.  He  read  all  the  literature 
of  the  movement,  calm,  maniacal,  practical,  and 
visionary.  Then  he  left  London  as  suddenly  as 
he  had  come.  No  man  could  tell  him  what  was 
wanted,  for  no  man  knew;  nothing  could  be  done 
beyond  talking  and  writing,  for  man's  brain  was 
not  yet  hard  enough  and  wide  enough  to  solve  the 


LOS  CERRITOS.  131 

problem.  In  tlie  slow  evolution  of  intelligence  and 
of  events  the  question  would  be  settled,  but  not 
in  his  time.  Sick  at  heart,  surfeited  to  his  finger 
tips  with  the  unrelieved  and  aimlessly  serious  side 
of  life,  he  travelled  madly  for  three  years.  He 
walked  every  highway  and  rambled  along  many 
a  by-way;  he  lived  books,  and  bit  deep  into  the 
apple  of  adventure.  Then,  weary  of  pleasure  as 
of  significance,  he  returned  to  California  and  with 
a  flicker  of  expiring  enthusiasm  married  the  beau 
tiful  daughter  of  his  father's  partner.  He  dreamed 
that  he  had  found  a  phantasm  he  had  pursued 
even  amid  his  zeal  for  universal  welfare,  and  when 
he  awakened  his  rebellion  for  a  short  time  was 
deeper  and  more  bitter  than  for  all  other  shattered 
ideals.  But  Life,  harshly  as  she  had  used  him, 
had  in  compensation  permitted  him  to  drink 
deeply  at  her  fountain  of  Philosophy,  and  one  day 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  accept  his  fate  without 
further  repining,  took  a  vow  that  he  would  stand 
by  this  last  mad  act  as  he  had  stood  by  all  others 
until  they  had  turned  from  him  and  wear  to  the 
end  the  consequences  .he  alone  had  contrived. 
The  world  and  his  wife  regarded  him  as  a  model 


132  LOS  CERRITOS. 

husband  and  lie  never  crossed  a  whim  of  the 
woman  who  chilled  his  blood  and  heart.  Some 
times  his  loneliness  and  hunger  for  human  happi 
ness  leaped  beyond  bounds.  Then  he  would  shut 
himself  among  his  books  or  throw  himself  on  his 
organ  stool,  and  in  time  a  transient  peace  would 
come.  As  he  grew  older  he  turned  from  the  future 
in  a  kind  of  terror.  What  was  he  to  do  with  forty 
years  of  loveless  life?  Ambition  was  dead  and  he 
had  no  desire  to  revive  and  direct  it  to  other  tot 
tering  goals.  He  had  known  the  walking  embodi 
ments  of  all  talents,  and  the  weary,  selfish,  disap 
pointed,  unsatisfactory  races  they  ran,  bred  in 
him  no  desire  to  emulate.  No,  life  and  philosophy 
had  taught  him  one  great  lesson— that  personal 
happiness  was  the  only  good  here  below  worth 
striving  for.  In  all  his  contact  with  men  he  had 
never  found  one  who  was  not  pursuing  it",  how 
ever  blindly,  grandly,  or  contemptibly.  The 
socialist  strove  for  it  in  his  attempt  to  adjust  the 
world  to  that  end,  the  minister  of  God  clutched 
ever  at  it  as  he  toiled  to  satisfy  conscience  and 
ideals,  the  politician  intrigued  for  it  as  he  sacri 
ficed  his  fellow  for  place  or  power.  And  in  this 


LOS   CERRITOS.  133 

little  span  why  should  a  man  Avaste  his  time  seek 
ing  for  aught  beside?  If  he  let  his  neighbors 
alone,  harmed  none,  and  gave  when  duty  com 
manded,  surely  his  list  of  responsibilities  was 
completed  and  he  might  paint  the  atmosphere  of 
this  poor  little  life  pink  if  he  could.  He  would 
but  follow  an  instinct  strong  as  that  which  makes 
man  man  and  woman  woman,  and  with  it  tower 
ing  above  all  others  in  the  human  organism. 

His  walk  grew  quicker  and  more  restless.  He 
had  solved  the  problem  too  late.  There  is  small 
comfort  in  unembodied  philosophy;  and  never 
had  his  future  looked  so  blank  and  tasteless  as  it 
looked  to-night.  It  was  as  if  he  had  come  face  to 
face  with  it  for  the  first  time,  as  if  a  match  had 
been  suddenly  struck  in  some  hitherto  cobweb- 
hung  corridor  in  his  brain.  And  those  cobwebs 
would  never  be  spun  again  nor  the  lights  go  out. 
He  stopped  with  an  angrj  gasp,  and  at  the  same 
moment  came  an  uncontrollable  desire  to  get  away 
from  his  wife  and  all  present  conditions  and  go 
straight  to  nature.  His  rare  moments  of  happi 
ness  had  been  known  in  her  solitudes.  Should  he 
reserve  that  corner  of  the  world  he  had  just  con- 


134  LOS   CERRITOS. 

quered,  to  fly  to  when  spiritual  suffocation  was 
threatening?  His  wife  had  other  plans  regarding 
the  Cerritos,  but  for  once  her  will  should  yield  to 
his.  If  necessary  he  would  buy  her  another 
ranch — in  a  different  part  of  California. 

He  turned  impatiently  as  the  rings  of  the  por 
tiere  clanked  together,  but  smiled  as  he  saw  the 
keen  good-natured  face  of  the  great  journalist. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said  hastily;  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
you.  I  wondered  if  you  were  here." 

"  I  have  had  a  hunt  for  you,"  said  the  other, 
"  but  I  sympathize  with  your  taste.  With  your 
leave  I  will  spend  the  rest  of  the  evening  in 
here.  This  is  the  sort  of  room  I  like." 

u  Sit  down,  sit  down,"  said  Tremaine.  He  threw 
himself  into  a  deep  chair,  offered  his  guest  a 
cigar  and  they  drifted  into  a  discussion  of  cur 
rent  affairs.  The  journalist  had  known  the 
young  man  off  and  on  for  many  years  and  had  a 
great  liking  for  him.  He  admired  his  abilities 
and  in  a  measure  understood  his  disappointments. 
He  had  often  wondered  what  he  would  make  of 
himself,  and  after  the  conversation  with  his  wife 
he  felt  that  speculation  must  begin  afresh. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  135 

"  I  hear  that  I  am  to  congratulate  you,"  he  said 
at  length.  "  Mrs.  Tremaine  tells  me  you  have  just 
won  a  most  expensive  and  fatiguing  law-suit." 

"  Yes ;  an  abominably  expensive  and  fatiguing 
one.  They  are  an  obstinate  lot." 

"  What  will  you  do  now  ? " 

"AY ell,"  said  Tremaine,  sliding  downward  in 
his  chair  until  he  was  almost  horizontal,  and  cross 
ing  his  legs.  "  I  hear  that  these  people  haven't 
much  besides  their  huts,  so  if  they  want  to  buy 
or  rent  their  farms  on  easy  terms  they  can  do  so. 
I  have  written  to  my  agent  to  that  effect.  I  have 
some  idea  of  building  a  big  adobe  house  after  old 
models  and  living  in  it  occasionally.  That  por 
tion  of  California  which  is  comparatively  untrod 
den  is  about  as  picturesque  and  satisfying  as  any 
thing  on  this  small  globe.  God !  how  small  it  is. 
And  it  has  a  personality  (I  can  give  it  no  other 
word)  which  makes  it  unique  even  in  America. 
You  feel  as  if  some  great  incomprehensible  yet 
most  companionable  force  had  singled  out  Califor 
nia  and  made  it  his  home.  Moreover,  to  be  practi 
cal,  the  hunting  and  fishing  ought  to  be  very  good 
on  this  ranch,  and  I  think  that  with  the  addition 


136  LOS   CERRITOS. 

of  a  library  and  an  organ  the  Cerritos  would  be  a 
highly  livable  place." 

The  journalist  smiled,  but  sympathetically. 
"  You  do  not  appear  to  have  discussed  your  plans 
with  you  wife." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  has  talked  of  fitting  it  up  on  a 
grand  scale  and  doing  a  lot  of  entertaining;  but 
in  reality  the  place  would  not  suit  her  at  all.  She 
hates  the  country  unless  she  can  come  to  town  in 
an  hour,  and  she  would  find  few  people  anxious 
for  that  trip.  She  has  a  house  of  her  own  at  Menlo 
Park,  and  a  lot  of  other  houses  to  leave  cards  at, 
and  one  or  two  good  roads  where  she  can  puss  the 
same  people  every  afternoon.  In  that  fashionable 
suburb's  placid  monotony  and  soporific  physiol 
ogy  she  yawns  back  her  roses  and  corresponds 
with  her  dressmaker.  How  I  hate  the  place !  It 
is  the  Sleepy  Hollow  of  California.  The  Cerritos 
though !  I  wish  you  could  see  it.  I'll  take  you 
down  when  my  house  is  ready." 

"I  will  devote  a  summer  to  its  admiration;  but 
—you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  going  to 
divide  the  rest  of  your  life  betAveen  fashionable 
society  and  a  ranch?  Get  up  and  stir  yourself. 


LOS  CERRITOS.  137 

You  were  born  to  some  career.  Go  out  and  look 
for  it.  Dig  for  it,  if  necessary." 

"Damn  careers,"  muttered  his  host;  but  he  bit 
through  his  cigar. 

"Write  a  book  and  make  yourself  famous. 
Fame  compensates  for  a  column  of  wants." 

"  0  Fame !  "  said  Tremaine  impatiently.  "  Fame 
that  rescues  a  Jane  Austen  and  passes  an  Emily 
Bronte  by !  Fame  that  is  of tener  spelt  with  nine 
letters  than  with  four!  Fame  that  is  as  kind  to 
cleverness  as  to  genius!  And  in  this  era  of  all 
eras  it  is  the  less  worth  while,  for  the  world  is 
mad  with  its  own  sensationalism  and  knows  not 
the  difference  between  the  man  who  is  striving  to 
be  an  artist,  whether  he  succeed  or  not,  and  the 
herd  of  cheap  notorieties.  I  want  none  of  it,  if  I 
had  the  ability — which  I  have  not.  I  have  no  tal 
ents;  all  I  ask  for  is  a  life  of  action.  I  would 
rather  have  one  year  of  hard  lighting  than  sit  cross- 
legged  like  a  damned  Turk  in  the  Temple  of 
Fame  for  ten ;  but  my  lines  have  fallen  in  times 
of  peace—  He  threw  his  cigar  into  the  fire  and 
began  striding  up  and  down  the  room.  His  rest 
lessness  was  growing  beyond  control  and  the  mus- 


138  LOS   CERRITOS. 

cles  of  liis  erect  powerful  frame  seemed  to  cast 
off  vitality  as  lie  walked. 

"  Just  now  I  am  determined  to  have  a  change  of 
some  sort.  I  am  as  mad  for  a  new  experience  as 
an  unfledged  college  boy.  And  what  is  more  it  is 
coming-  My  experience  of  life  has  been  that 
when  one  gets  into  that  highly  charged  condition 
the  experience  is  drawn  as  to  a  magnet.  There  is 
a  long  sight  more  of  the  unusual  and  romantic  in 
life  than  is  ever  chronicled  by  the  timid  novelist. 
In  fact  the  unexpected  is  about  the  one  thing  it 
is  safe  to  bet  on.  What  is  this — a  telegram  ? " 

A  Chinese  servant  in  clinging  silken  robes  was 
moving  solemnly  across  the  room,  bearing  a  yel 
low  envelope  on  a  golden  salver — the  gift  of  a 
bonanza  king. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Tremaihe.  He  cast  his  eye 
over  the  telegram,  then  flung  it  on  the  table  with 
an  eager  flash  in  the  heavy  blue  of  his  eyes. 

"It's  from  Hawkins — my  Cerritos  agent.  He 
wires  that  the  people  refuse  to  rent,  buy,  or  move. 
That  not  content  with  fighting  the  law  they  will 
now  light  me.  They  have  held  mass-meetings, 
threatened  to  kill  Hawkins— poor  devil,  how  he 


LOS   CERRITOS.  139 

must  be  shaking  in  his  boots ;  he  is  able  but  not 
courageous —and  swear  they  will  never  move  a 
yard  from  their  mud  hovels.  Hawkins  says  that 
he  has  wired  to  the  nearest  town  for  the  sheriff 
and  deputies,  but  I  shall  go  down  myself.  Here 
is  the  experience,  you  see.  How  I  should  enjoy 
one  or  two  hand-to-hand  fights  with  some  brawny 
Mexican!  The  very  thought  stimulates  me. 
Come;  let  us  go  and  have  a  glass  of  champagne. 
You  can  come  back  here  after,  if  you  like." 

"  By  Jove,  you  have  got  the  restlessness  of 
California  in  you,"  said  the  journalist  as  he  rose, 
nothing  loath,  to  follow  his  host.  "  You'll  burn 
out  in  about  ten  years." 

****** 

The  dining-room  was  the  pride  of  Mrs.  Tre- 
maine's  artistic  brain.  The  walls  were  hung  with 
tapestries  whose  every  rotting  thread  was  price 
less.  The  old  oaken  sideboards  and  mantel  had 
been  brought  from  Venice,  and  built  into  walls  of 
a  wood  whose  parent  tree  had  not  been  felled 
when  the  knife  had  carved  these  alien  grafts. 
Heavy  beams  barred  the  ceiling,  gold  and  crystal 
glittered  on  the  old  banquetting  table,  the  sweet- 


140  LOS   CERRITOS. 

meats  were  triumphs  of  national  art.  Banks  of 
flowers  rounded  the  corners  of  the  room,  arid  the 
fanciful  china  between  the  Venetian  columns 
gleamed  through  yellow  roses  and  purple  violets. 
The  massive  chairs  were  worthier  of  biographies 
than  most  men,  and  the  floor  was  a  mosaic  repre 
senting  a  redwood.  Somebody  was  once  startled 
into  an  unhappy  exclamation  at  this  last  daring 
incongruity,  but  Mrs.  Treinaine  snubbed  him  into 
silence  by  suavely  remarking  that  the  redwoods 
where  older  than  either  the  tapestries  or  the  chairs. 

The  room  was  crowded,  and  champagne  lay  like 
amber  pools  in  little  crystal  basins.  As  Tremaine 
entered  each  guest  raised  his  sparkling  glass. 

"  Here's  to  your  continued  good  luck,"  cried  the 
lawyer  who  had  won  the  famous  suit.  "  We  all 
congratulate  you." 


PART  II. 

THE   MAN. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  143 


I. 

THE  DAUGHTER   OF  JOAQUIN   MURIETTA. 

Iisr  Castro's  field  an  immense  bonfire  blazed,  red 
dening  the  sky  like  an  angry  volcano,  and  throw 
ing  into  fitful  black-shadowed  relief  the  hills  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river.  The  watch  fire  had  not 
beckoned  in  vain  and  a  small  army  of  men  were 
gathered  about  a  table  whereon  stood  the  master 
spirit  of  the  Cerritos  Ranclio. 

Castro  was  shouting  rebellion  with  clashing 
teeth  and  savage  gestures.  His  great  hairy  chest 
was  bare,  and  his  purple,  scowling  face  and  thun 
dering  voice  were  enough  in  themselves  to  frighten 
his  subjects  into  submission.  The  men  interrupted 
him  with  frequent  cheers  of  approval,  and  as  they 
surged  excitedly  about  in  the  red  dancing  light 
they  looked  like  a  horde  of  rioting  demons. 

"  Oh  we  no  going,"  he  roared.  "  We  are  three 
hundred  mens  and  boys,  and  we  have  knives  and 
bullets  yet.  The  sheriffs  coming  to-morrow? 


144  LOS  CERRITOS. 

Letting  them!  "  (With  a  terrible  volley  of  oaths.) 
"  We  washing  them  in  their  own  blood  and  throw 
them  in  the  river  to  fat  the  fish.  Who  farming 
this  land?  Who  builda  the  houses?  The  Senor 
Alejandro  Tremaine? — black  diablo  how  he  is! 
No !  we  doing  it  and  it  is  ours.  I  maka  this  field 
grow  wheat  where  are  nettles  before.  I  cutta  the 
treeses  and  maka  that  fence.  I  digga  the  earth 
and  maka  my  house.  I  giva  my  muscles,  my 
times,  my  sense.  The  Senor  Tremaine  can  he  taka 
that  ?  Can  he  taka  the  years  of  my  life  I  put 
ting  here?  Then  si  he  no  can  taka  those,  he  no 
can  taka  whatte  they  make,  for  the  two  maka  one. 
Si  the  Senor  Tremaine  need,  that  make  another 
thing.  But  he  no  need;  he  have  so  much  he  no 
knowing  whatte  to  do  with  all.  Si  we  keeping  our 
homes  he  no  starve;  he  no  knowing  the  differ- 
encia.  No!  fighting!  fighting!  fighting!  Throw 
ing  him  on  the  ground !  Spit  on  him !  Hang  him 
to  a  tree  and  filling  him  with  b tick-shot!  Stay  in 
your  housses  with  your  guns  at  your  windows; 
he  no  can  take  si  you  no  give.  He  and  all  the 
damned  white-liver  agents  and  sheriffs  go  to  run 
like  the  rabbits  when  they  seeing  us  come." 


LOS  CERRITOS.  145 

He  leaped  from  the  table  amidst  loud-voiced 
excitement ;  but  it  was  evident  that  some  difference 
of  opinion  existed  in  the  audience.  In  a  moment 
Espinoza  was  hoisted  upon  the  table  and  a  respect 
ful  silence  fell  at  once. 

"  There  no  mus  be  blood,"  he  said.  "  The  Senor 
Tremaine  he  no  knowing,  perhaps,  whatte  lie  do ; 
the  rich  man,  he  lova  the  money  and  the  land;  he 
no  meaning  be  cruelle.  For  that  we  mus  have  be 
careful  and  no  losta  our  souls  to  send  his  to  hell ; 
for  si  he  live  and  be  old  he  may  bimeby  feel 
sorry.  But  for  the  other — Castro,  he  is  right.  The 
housses  are  ours  and  we  no  going,  si  we  can  help. 
We  are  three  hundred  and  we  can  maka  the 
sheriffs  run,  and  bimeby  the  Sefior  feel  tire  out 
and  letting  us  stay.  And  si  he  come  himself  and 
see  the  childrens,  he  no  turning  them  out.  But 
no  fire  the  gun  and  no  usa  the  knife." 

The  speech  was  received  with  mingled  murmurs 
of  disapproval  and  assenting  cheers,  and  the  mo 
ment  was  a  critical  one.  Castro,  trembling  for 
his  supremacy,  was  about  to  raise  his  voice  again 
when  a  new  figure  suddenly  appeared  on  the  table. 

It  was  a  woman  this  time  and  as  startling  in  her 
10 


146  LOS   CERRITOS. 

way  as  Castro  had  been  in  his.  Her  loose  black 
hair,  caught  by  the  wind,  swept  to  and  fro  behind 
her  head  like  an  ominous  cloud,  her  eyes  seemed 
to  reflect  the  intense,  angry  brilliancy  of  the  red 
dened  stars,  and  in  the  scarlet  glare  of  the  ever- 
leaping  fire  she  looked  as  if  about  to  disappear 
above  the  tree-tops  in  a  chariot  of  flame. 

"Camielita!  Carmelita!"  cried  Castro  ecstatic 
ally.  "  Letting  her  spik.  Listen  to  her  arid  no  say 
one  word.  ISTo  one  word !  " 

Before  the  astonished  silence  had  time  to  fall 
Carmelita's  far-carrying  voice  was  sounding 
through  the  field,  rising  high  above  the  roar  of 
the  river  and  the  crackling  of  the  flames. 

"  Yes !  Yes !  Kill  him !  "  she  cried,  carried  out  of 
her  womanhood  by  the  weirdness  of  the  scene  and 
the  terrible  wrongs  which  had  dragged  the  fierce 
nature  of  her  father  from  the  depths  where  it  ever 
lightly  slept.  "  Si  he  go  to  take  our  housses,  kill 
him,  for  it  is  right.  Think  of  the  childrens— they 
have  no  one  dress,  some  of  them,  and  the  weather 
so  cold.  Where  they  sleep  ?  In  the  wet  field, 
where  they  die  in  a  week?  Think  of  your  wives 
who  go  to  have  the  babies,  and  of  those  who  nurse 


LOS   CERRITOS.  147 

the  others!  And  think  how  they  work  for  you, 
and  how  they  cry  and  scream  when  they  see  the 
babies  die  and  they  no  can  help!  And  the  old 
womens  who  sit  in  the  sun  and  shake  with  the 
age.  Mus  they  sleep  with  the  pigs  and  the  sheep, 
and  hug  them  to  keep  warm  on  the  wet  ground 
when  the  wind  moan? "  She  paused  for  a  moment 
and  then  leaned  forward  with  her  arms  out 
stretched.  "And  you  know,"  she  went  on,  her 
voice  growing  hoarse  with  rage — "  you  know  how 
the  man  who  take  our  homes,  he  live?  He  have 
a  house  big  like  Castro's  field.  The  carpets  thick 
on  the  floors  like  the  violet  beds  in  the  forest,  and 
all  your  crops  for  ten  years  no  could  buy  one. 
The  glass  in  the  windows  one  big  thick  shining 
sheet  like  the  springs  under  the  rocks,  and  the 
curtains  like  spring  clouds  that  have  catch  in 
them  the  maiden-hair  that  grow  on  the  cliffs.  He 
have  pianos  that  sing  like  birds,  but  were  make 
from  trees  that  now  can  be  the  homes  of  the  birds 
no  more;  and  chairs  so  soft  that  si  you  sit  in  one, 
you  no  work  any  more.  And  the  beds — you  think 
they  are  like  yours,  make  of  boards  and  straw 
that  scratch?  No!  they  are  make  from  the  feath- 


148  LOS   CERRITOS. 

ers  of  chickens  and  geese — thousands  and  millions 
—when  we  no  can  get  one  to  lay  the  egg!  And 
you  think  they  eat  in  the  one  room?  Xo — they 
have  one  sala  big  like  your  whole  house,  and  they 
eat  little  birds  off  plates  of  gold,  and  drink  yellow 
whiskey  out  of  cups  o'  glass  that  shine  like  the 
stars.  And  the  wife  de  that  man  what  put  us  out? 
You  think  she  wear  rags  like  your  wives,  and  no 
have  shawl  in  the  winter  ?  Oh,  no !  when  it  is 
cold  she  wear  the  dress  like  the  thick  green  moss 
on  the  trees,  and  what  they  call  furs  that  are  like 
the  \vool  on  the  bear.  And  when  it  is  warm  she 
dress  like  the  flowers,  and  drive  in  a  wagon,  big 
like  the  stage,  with  gold  harness,  and  pillows  make 
from  the  skin  of  the  cow  who  no  give  us  milk. 
And  he  " — she  threw  back  her  body,  and  raised  her 
arm,  looking  like  a  prophetess  inspired  by  heaven 
to  foretell  the  doom  of  nations.  "  And  lie — he  sit 
on  a  throne  of  gold  like  God  in  the  picture  in  the 
Mission,  and  say  to  the  lawyer,  c  My  cellars  are 
full  de  gold.  Go  helpa  yourself  and  turn  the  mens 
from  their  housses  and  take  their  farms  that  the 
childrens  can  starve.  I  no  want  the  land  for  more 
bread;  I  have  whole  towns  and  many  ranchos 


LOS   CERRITOS.  149 

now,  but  I  no  know  what  to  do  with  my  moneys, 
so  the  poor  man  mus  die.  And  I  love  to  think 
that  bimeby  I  have  more  moneys  still  from  those 
farms  and  those  trees  so  I  can  buy  another  rancho 
and  turn  out  more  childrens  to  sleep  in  the  fields 
and  scream  with  the  rheumatismo  in  their  little 
joints.  Oh !  Lopez,  Diaz,  Jamova,  Verela,  and  you 
Clarke  and  H  nter  and  Miller  with  your  little 
cotton-haired  children, — tear  this  man  in  pieces 
si  he  no  give  you  your  housses.  He  no  is  fit  to 
]ive,  and  Hell  no  can  wait  for  him  longer." 

Exhausted  as  much  by  the  bound  her  imagina 
tion  had  taken  as  by  the  strain  on  her  throat, 
Carmelita  dropped  suddenly  from  the  table  into 
Castro's  arms.  Her  strength  returned  at  his  touch, 
and  she  wrenched  herself  free,  spurning  him  from 
her.  But  he  flung  himself  on  his  knees  at  her 
feet,  biting  her  hands  in  the  savageness  of  his 
caress,  and  tearing  her  skirt  from  its  gathers. 

"  Carmelita !  Carmelita !  "  he  gasped,  his  hoarse 
voice  almost  inaudible,  "  I  roasta  the  world  in  hell 
si  you  give  me  one  kiss.  Thro wa  me  down,  stamp 
on  me  like  the  wild  cows  tramp  the  sheeps,  I 
scream  with  joy,  for  you  toucha  me.  I  go  to  San 


I5O  LOS   CERRITOS. 

Francisco  and  killing  this  man,  si  you  say.  Yon 
no  can  say  do  it  one  thing  I  no  do.  O  Carmella, 
Carmella  mia!  I  tear  God  from  his  throne  and 
putting  you  there,  si  you  only  say,  '  Castro,  I 
marrying  you !  I  loving  you !  ' 

Carmelita,  panting  and  horrified  at  the  terrible 
ardor  of  the  brute  and  at  the  touch  of  his  thick 
hot  lips,  tore  herself  from  his  clutching  fingers  and 
flew  over  the  field,  unheeding  the  shouts  of  ad 
miration  that  followed  her.  Castro  made  no  at 
tempt  at  pursuit;  he  knew  that  every  man  in  the 
field  would  fly  to  her  protection  if  he  did;  but 
taking  advantage  of  the  impression  her  Avords  had 
made,  he  sprang  upon  the  table  and  poured  forth 
a  wild  and  blasphemous  speech  which  wrought 
the  squatters  up  to  the  pitch  of  madness  and  routed 
the  pacific  council  of  Espinoza  into  oblivion. 


LOS   CERRITOS. 


II. 

TWO    CONFESSIONS. 

WIIEX  Carmelita  readied  home  she  fell  on  her 
bed.  Faint  and  cold-veined  through  reaction,  she 
lay  and  thought  with  horror  on  what  she  had  done. 
Suppose  those  men  should  kill  Tremaine  and  go 
to  the  gallows  with  murder  on  their  souls?  Who 
would  have  sent  them  there?  What  devil  had 
prompted  her  to  spring  upon  the  table  and  excite 
the  passions  of  the  men  at  a  time  when  they  most 
needed  calm?  But  the  hot  flood  of  rage  and  de- 
spair  and  hatred  that  had  been  rising  in  her  heart 
during  all  these  bitter  months  had  suddenly  boiled 
over  its  crater  like  lava  when  Nature  is  in  her 
angry  moods.  And  Castro !  That  beast  to  have 
touched  her!  She  had  a  hot  sense  of  having  been 
defiled,  and  she  got  up  suddenly  and  thrust  her 
hands  above  their  wrists  into  a  gourd  of  water, 
then  went  back  to  bed  and  sobbed  herself  to  sleep, 
only  to  wake  again  and  again. 


152  LOS   CERRITOS. 

The  next  morning  she  had  a  headache  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  and  was  inclined  to  think  that 
retribution  had  come  and  she  was  going  to  die. 
But  after  strolling  about  in  the  open  air  for  a  time 
she  felt  better  and  concluded  to  confess  her  sins  of 
the  night  before  to  the  padre  and  consult  him  in 
regard  to  the  certificate. 

When  she  arrived  at  his  house  he  was  not  there, 
and  she  amused  herself  cooking  his  dinner.  He 
came  in  shortly  after  noon  and  his  tired  face 
lightened  when  he  saw  her. 

;'  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  mi  Carmella,"  he  said 
patting  her  head.  "  You  are  so  inextricably  a  part 
of  my  life  on  this  ranch  that  I  cannot  believe 
in  your  going,  and  your  presence  cheers  me." 

"Oh,  padre  mio,"  faltered  the  girl.  "I  have 
done  so  terreeblay  a  thing." 

He  smiled.  "  Have  you  forgotten  your  rosary 
again? — or  stolen  the  mustang? " 

"  Mi  padre,  it  is  worse,  more  worse  than  that," 
and  without  giving  her  courage  time  to  ebb  she 
gave  a  repentant  account  of  her  maiden  speech. 

He  looked  grave  as  he  listened.  "But  she  is 
right,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "she  is  right." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  153 

"  It  is  impossible  to  tell  what  the  consequences 
will  be,"  he  said  aloud,  when  she  had  finished, 
"but  I  don't  believe  they  will  be  as  bad  as  you 
think.  With  the  exception  of  Castro  and  one  or 
two  others,  the  squatters  are  not  inclined  to  be 
murderous.  The  Mexicans  are  sullen  and  the 
Americans  desperate  and  indignant,  but  in  the 
main,  sensible.  They  will  hold  their  farms  until 
the  last  minute,  and  perhaps  attempt  to  cow  the 
sheriffs,  but  I  don't  think  they  will  shed  blood. 
In  the  average  brain  is  planted  a  wholesome  re 
gard  for  the  law,  and  the  sheriffs  will  win  the 
fight  and  keep  their  blood  in  the  bargain." 

"  And  we  going? "  cried  Carmelita. 

The  priest  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  My  dear  girl, 
I  am  afraid  you  must.  Even  if  you  fought  to  the 
death,  the  sheriff  at  any  moment  could  summon 
the  militia  and  sweep  you  all  down  like  grass  be 
fore  the  mower." 

"And  what  we  do?  There  no  is  one  acre  de 
Government  land  for  forty  miles.  The  wagons  are 
in  pieces,  and  we  no  have  enough  si  they  were 
good.  How  the  childrens  walk  forty  miles,  and 
the  poor  womens? " 


154  L°S   CERRITOS. 

"  Lightfoot  lias  said  that  you  can  camp  on  liis 
ranch  for  the  present,  and  the  women  and  children 
can  stay  there  while  the  men  go  ahead  and  pre 
pare  homes  for  them.  I  will  see  that  they  do  not 
starve,  and  when  the  men  return  for  them  I  will 
go  to  all  the  neighboring  ranchos  and  take  up  a 
collection  for  their  transportation  by  stage." 

Carmelita  sat  down  by  the  hearth  and  buried  her 
face  in  her  lap.  Never  before  had  she  felt  that  the 
case  was  so  utterly  hopeless.  She  lifted  her  head 
in  a  few  moments.  "  Bueno,"  she  said  sullenly. 
"  Si  we  go,  we  go.  But,"  and  the  demon  awoke 
once  more,  "the  Senor  Tremaine  I  hope  he  die 
with  no  one  crust  to  eat,  and  si  he  have  childrens 
I  hope  he  see  their  bones  come  through  the  skins." 

"Carmelita!"  exclaimed  the  padre,  mindful  of 
his  calling. 

She  took  the  certificate  from  her  dress.  "  I  find 
this  in  the  Mission.  What  I  can  do  with  it  to 
make  the  money?" 

The  padre  lifted  his  brows  as  he  read  the  bit  of 
paper.  "  This  thing  certainly  has  its  value,"  he 
said,  "  it  is  very  old  and  is  signed  with  a  famous 
name.  But  who  on  this  place  would  buy  it  ? " 


LOS   CERRITOS.  155 

"  I  think  I  ask  Tio  Pedro  to  give  to  the  stage 
driver.  He  can  sell  in  the  town." 

He  shook  his  head.  u  No  one  in  the  small  towns 
would  know  its  value.  You  would  not  get  a  dime 
for  it  and  the  driver  would  probably  lose— 

"  I  know,"  exclaimed  Carmelita,  with  a  sudden 
inspiration.      "I  give  to  Geraldine  and   she- 
Padre  mio !  what  is  the  matter  ? " 

The  priest  had  thrown  himself  forward  and 
grasped  her  arm,  his  dark  face  almost  black. 

"  What  name  did  you  say  ? "  he  demanded 
hoarsely,  his  grip  tightening  on  her  arm. 

Carmelita  sank  back  in  consternation.  "  Oh,  I 
forget !  I  forget !  "  she  cried.  "  I  promise  never 
to  say  her  name." 

"  Whose  name?"  he  shook  her  arm  roughly. 
"  Tell  me  at  once." 

She  looked  at  him ;  obedience  to  the  padre  had 
been  a  pleasant  duty,  but  it  was  a  fixed  habit, 
nevertheless. 

"  The  seiiora  at  Lindavista." 

"Ah!  that  woman  who  is  never  seen.  Tell  me 
what  she  is  like."  His  lips  were  quivering  now, 
his  eyes  dilating. 


156  LOS   CERRITOS. 

But  at  this  point  Carmelita  rebelled.  "No," 
she  said,  "  I  no  do  that.  I  say  to  her  I  never  will, 
and  I  no  will,  even  to  you,  padre." 

"  Tell  me,"  he  cried  harshly  as  if  he  had  not 
heard,  "are her  eyes  green  and  is  her  hair  yellow? 
Is  her  skin  white  and  her  lips  red—  He  saw 

the  answer  in  the  girl's  startled  eyes,  and  spring 
ing  to  his  feet  he  paced  up  and  down  the  narrow 
room.  Suddenly  striding  over  to  Carmelita  he 
caught  her  by  the  shoulder  and  raising  her  to  her 
feet  pushed  her  to  the  door.  "Go!  Go!"  he 
muttered.  "  Leave  me.  I  must  be  alone." 

And  terrified  by  what  she  saw  in  his  face  Car 
melita  fled  from  the  house. 

She  went  directly  to  Geraldine,  partly  to  con 
fess  her  breach  of  trust,  partly  to  ask  her  to  dis 
pose  of  the  certificate.  When  she  reached  Linda- 
vista  she  found  her  friend  lying  on  the  divan  with 
a  cologne-soaked  handkerchief  on  her  head.  Ger 
aldine  had  grown  older  during  the  last  year. 
There  were  violet  shadows  under  her  eyes  and  the 
mouth  was  drawn.  She  held  out  her  hand  with  a 
smile — almost  of  gratitude. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come.    J  have  heard  of 


LOS   CERRITOS.  157 

your  speech  last  night.  You  are  a  wonderful 
girl;  but  happy  you  will  be  if  you  never  see 
that  life  of  the  world.  How  flat  you  would  find 
it!  But— there  is  no  fresh  trouble? " 

Carmelita  sat  down  on  the  floor  and  leaned  her 
head  against  the  divan.  She  found  her  second 
confession  much  harder  than  her  first.  Would 
she  be  forgiven? 

"  O  Geraldina,"  she  began,  "  I  have  something 
terreeblay  to  say." 

The  woman's  face  turned  a  shade  paler.  "  What 
is  the  matter? "  she  asked  faintly. 

"Oh,  how  I  can  say  it?  Geraldina,  what  you 
think  I  do?  I  say  your  name  to  the  padre!  " 

Geraldine  sat  upright,  as  if  some  one  had  sud 
denly  lifted  her.  "And  what  did  he  say?  What 
did  he  do?"  she  demanded,  the  words  tumbling 
one  over  the  other. 

Carmelita  gave  a  graphic  account  of  what  the 
priest  had  said  and  done.  She  felt  as  if  she  were 
being  torn  in  twain  that  day,  but  her  sympathies 
were  too  keenly  with  the  woman  to  deny  her  re 
quest.  Geraldine  listened,  the  blood  rising  to  her 
hair,  then  sweeping  back  to  her  heart  until  she 


158  LOS   CERRITOS. 

gasped  for  breath.  When  the  girl  had  finished 
she  dropped  back  on  the  pillows  and  turning  on 
her  side  hid  her  face.  But  feminine  curiosity  had 
by  this  time  taken  triumphant  possession  of  Car- 
melita.  She  raised  herself  to  her  knees  and  laid 
her  head  caressingly  on  her  friend's  shoulder. 

"  Tell  me,  querida,"  she  said  coaxingly,  "  what 
you  know  by  the  padre  before  you  come  here? " 

Geraldine  shook  from  head  to  foot,  and  then 
burst  into  heavy  dry-eyed  sobs.  Carmelita  put 
both  arms  around  her  and  cried  in  sympathy,  yet 
with  that  exquisite  sensation  which  a  woman  ever 
feels  when  about  to  lift  the  curtain  of  a  love  affair 
in  which  the  element  of  mystery  is  dominant, 

Geraldine  turned  and  pressed  her  head  against 
the  girl's  shoulder.  When  the  paroxysm  had 
passed  she  lay  without  speaking  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  panting  a  little. 

"  Tell  me,"  whispered  Carmelita,  whose  patience 
was  ebbing. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  all,  dearest.  Only  this  much: 
I  knew  your  padre  once — and  loved  him.  And — 
why  should  I  deny  it? — I  love  him  still.  It  is  for 
him  I  have  left  the  world — that  I  might  be  near 


LOS   CERRITOS.  159 

him,  even  if  I  never  saw  him.  But  now  that  he 
knows  I  am  here  I  suppose  I  must  go." 

"  No,  no,'1  cried  Carmelita.  "  You  no  go  and  leave 
me.  The  padre  no  is  sure  it  is  you  and  I  never  tell 
him,  never !  never !  " 

"  Oh!  but  he  does  know  it  is  I.  And  now  that 
I  know  he  knows,  it  will  not  be  so  easy  to  keep 
silence.  Already  that  passive  endurance  to  which 
I  have  schooled  myself  during  the  past  year  is 
gone  and  I  feel  eager  for  something  to  happen— 
for  the  climax  to  come.  But  if  he  had  never 
known  I  could  have  gone  on  forever." 

"  Would  you  have  stay  here  alway? " 

"  Yes,  until  I  died  or  he  went  away.  Then  I 
would  have  followed  him." 

Carmelita  smoothed  the  yellow  hair  that  was 
falling  over  her  shoulder.  "Pobre  Geraldinita! 
But  he  suffer  too.  I  know  that.  Always,  even 
when  I  am  a  little  girl,  I  know  he  no  is  happy." 

The  hand  which  clasped  Carmelita's  gave  it  a 
closer  pressure. 

"  You  no  are  angry  with  me? " 

"  No.  T  would  not  have  had  you  tell  him,  but 
now  that  it  is  done  I  am  almost— glad." 


l6o  LOS   CERRITOS. 

She  rose  and  went  into  the  next  room.  When 
she  returned  her  face  was  calm  and  she  sat  down 
before  Carmelita.  "Now  tell  me  of  your  own 
affairs,"  she  commanded.  "  Have  you  heard  any 
thing  further? " 

Carmelita  shook  her  head  despondently,  but 
produced  the  certificate.  "  Perhaps  you  know  of 
some  one  who  buy  that? "  she  said. 

"Ah ! "  exclaimed  Geraldine,  as  she  read  the 
paper,  "  I  can  get  you  money  for  this.  I  have  a 
friend  in  San  Francisco  who  has  a  mania  for  such 
things  and  I  will  send  it  to  him  at  once.  You 
ought  to  get  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  at  least," 

Carmelita  opened  her  eyes,  "  Dio  mio ! "  she 
gasped,  "  I  buy  closes  for  all  the  childrens  and  a 
bag  of  beans."  Then  she  rose,  divining  that  Ger 
aldine  wished  to  be  left  alone. 

"Adios,  mijita,"  she  said.  "  I  mus  go,  now.  I 
come  again,  for  we  no  go  yet." 

Geraldine  opened  the  door  for  her  and  kissed 
her  good-by,  then  turned  the  key  and  sank  to 
the  floor  clutching  the  curtain  in  her  convulsive 
hands,  but  uttering  no  sound. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  l6l 


III. 
INCARNATE. 

CAEMELITA  walked  slowly  homeward,  her  mind 
crowded  with  an  army  of  thoughts— those  led  by 
Geraldine  and  those  by  the  squatters  fighting  for 
supremacy.  What  had  Geraldine  been  to  the 
padre?  It  was  none  of  her  affair,  but  she  did  wish 
that  she  knew.  It  was  the  most  romantic  incident 
which  had  entered  her  life;  the  loves  and  woes  of 
the  birds  paled  before  it.  She  would  never  have 
a  sorrow  like  that.  Her  troubles  were  all  of  the 
sordid  kind ;  to  sit  by  and  weep  fiercely  while  the 
children  starved,  or  moaned  with  the  cold ;  or  to 
feel  the  wolf  gnawing  at  her  own  vitals,  and  won 
der  where  her  next  dress  was  to  come  from ;  it 
would  be  made  of  bean  bags,  most  likely. 

She  stood  still  with  a  feeling  of  surprise.  She 
had  the  same  sensation,  half  eager,  half  restful, 
which  always  touched  her  when  she  approached 
her  redwood.  But  he  was  not  near  her  to-day; 


162  LOS  CERRITOS. 

lie  was  high  on  the  mountain  with  the  spring- 
liowers  at  his  feet.  She  looked  behind  her.  Far 
away  shimmered  the  mountain  like  a  dark  blue 
tidal  wave  which  had  caught  a  forest  in  its  rush. 
Between,  were  a  hundred  green  hills  spangled  with 
flowers.  The  air  was  mad  with  melody  and  in 
toxicating  with  perfume.  The  sun  sent  waves  of 
delicious  warmth  to  the  very  hearts  of  the  joyous 
flowers.  The  earth  lay  wrapped  in  her  newly 
woven  garment,  sensuous  and  dreamy.  Slowly, 
involuntarily,  Carmelita  turned.  A  man  stood  at 
the  bend  of  the  road. 

She  made  a  quick  unreasoning  step  toward  him, 
then  drew  back  and  put  her  hand  to  her  eyes. 
She  felt  as  if  the  earth  were  swaying  with  the  gen 
tle  movement  of  a  cradle,  as  if  the  unseen  stars 
had  swept  downward  and  were  pelting  her  like 
golden  hail.  Then  she  felt  a  sudden  sensation  of 
pain  and  she  wondered  vaguely  if  it  were  for  Ger- 
aldine — or  if  she  had  forgotten  her. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Tremaine  gently.  "You 
are  not  ill? "  And  he  thought  as  he  spoke  that  he 
had  never  seen  so  beautiful  a  woman. 

His  commonplace  words  and  a  strong  feminine 


LOS  CERRITOS.  163 

instinct  combined  to  restore  her  self-control.  u  Si, 
seiior,"  she  said,  almost  coldly,  "I  am  no  very 
well  for  to-day,"  and  she  moved  down  the  road. 

"  You  look  the  picture  of  health,"  he  said  aim 
lessly,  as  he  walked  beside  her;  "but  although  the 
weather  is  much  warmer  are  not  you  cold  in  that 
thin  dress?" 

Carmelita  threw  back  her  head,  stung  by  the 
commiseration  in  his  voice.  "It  is  the  same  I 
wear  alway,"  she  replied  haughtily.  "  I  am  use 
to  it."  She  look  askance  at  him.  He  wore  gray 
travelling  clothes  and  a  soft  felt  hat.  What  was 
he?  She  had  never  seen  any  one  with  whom  to 
compare  him.  And  he  was  so  tall  and  strong. 
Could  trees  assume  the  form  of  men  again  -and 
walk  the  earth?  She  glanced  over  her  shoulder 
once  more  at  the  mountain;  but  that  vaporous 
ocean  told  no  tales. 

"And  who  is  she? "  thought  Tremaine.  "  Prob 
ably  the  daughter  of  one  of  these  squatters.  But 
she  might  be  a  young  goddess.  Will  you  tell 
me  your  name? "  he  asked  aloud. 

"  Carmelita  Murietta." 

"And  you  live  here  on  the  Cerritos  Rancho?" 


1 64  LOS   CERRITOS. 

She  laughed  shortly.  His  words  recalled  the 
prosaic  miseries  of  life  and  wafted  other  sensa 
tions  to  dreamland.  "  Yes,  I  live  here  to-day,  but 
to-morrow,  perhaps,  I  live  in  the  grass  of  the  Col- 
minares  Rancho.  The  Senor  Tremaine  say  we  go, 
so  we  go,  I  suppose.  But  we  fight!  we  fight!  " 

Tremaine  felt  rather  awkward.  Was  he  actu 
ally  taking  the  roof  from  this  glorious  creature's 
head?  It  was  true  that  she  was  a  goddess  and 
should  lie  in  beds  of  poppies  with  the  clouds  for 
curtains,  but  probably  she  was  not  used  to  sleep 
ing  out  of  doors  and  didn't  like  it. 

"And  so  you  are  one  of  the  squatters  who  must 
go? "  he  said  lamely.  "  I  am  very  sorry." 

She  laughed  again.  "  Yes,  you  are  more  sorry 
si  you  see  the  childrens  who  no  have  shirt  to  the 
back  or  beans  in  the  stomach.  We  have  a  little 
lef  now,  and  a  few  sheeps,  but  soon  we  have  noth 
ing.  Oh,  the  Senor  Tremaine!  how  I  hate  him! 
Senor,  he  have  gold  enough  to  fill  the  hill  there, 
si  it  was  holla  out,  and  he  turn  us  out  our  haci 
endas  and  leave  us  to  starve." 

Tremaine  grew  hot  to  his  hair,  but  although  he 
had  braved  the  wrath  of  the  squatters  he  had  not 


LOS   CERRITOS.  165 

the  courage  to  reveal  himself  to  this  girl.  How 
could  he  reason  with  her?  He  knew  how  futile  all 
words  must  be,  but  he  felt  impelled  to  right  him 
self  if  he  could. 

"But,  senorita,  the  squatters  knew  for  a  year 
that  the  ranch  was  not  theirs.  They  had  plenty 
of  time  to  find  homes  elsewhere  before  they  spent 
all  their  money  on  a  law-suit.  And  if  Mr.  Tre- 
maine  paid  a  large  price  for  this  ranch— as  he 
undoubtedly  did — it  surely  is  his.  That  is  only 
common  reason." 

"  It  no  is  his,"  cried  Carmelita  indignantly.  She 
was  not  to  be  deceived  by  the  sophistries  of  men. 
"  It  is  ours.  We  have  it  first,  and  the  land  was 
make  so  the  poor  man  can  live,  not  for  the  rich 
man  to  buy  cause  he  no  know  what  to  do  with  his 
moneys.  The  Senor  Tremaine  no  is  better  make 
than  us.  Why  then  he  have  millions  and  we 
starve?  Why  he  have  the  great  house  in  San 
Francisco  and  take  our  haciendas  from  us?  "No 
man  have  the  right  to  say  to  other  man,  <  Go  starve. 
I  have  plenty  but  I  no  care.'  When  Adam  and 
Eve  are  born  they  only  are  give  one  garden  and 
they  are  the  only  peoples  on  the  earth.  But  God 


1 66  LOS   CERRITOS. 

—who  talk  to  peoples  in  those  days;  now  he  have 
so  many  he  no  can — he  no  let  them  take  more. 
He  say :  '  No,  you  no  can  have  more  than  you  need. 
Leave  the  other  for  those  who  come  bime  by,  that 
all  may  be  well  and  happy,  like  the  birds '  (who 
never  take  what  no  is  theirs,  nor  want).  But  Eve 
she  eat  the  apple,  and  Satan  tell  her  children  to 
take  one  from  the  other  and  keep  his  own." 

"Well!  well!"  exclaimed  Tremaine,  "that  is 
the  most  original  interpretation  of  the  Bible  I  have 
heard  yet.  Will  you  sit  down  here? " 

They  had  reached  the  Mission  and  Carmelita 
was  not  sorry  to  take  possession  of  a  box  and  lean 
against  the  wall.  Tremaine  sat  beside  her  and 
watched  her  furtively.  He  had  not  been  so  inter 
ested  in  a  woman  for  years.  She  must  have  sprung 
from  the  earth  like  the  great  red  poppies  over 
yonder.  He  would  not  believe  that  she  was  of 
mortal  parentage.  He  wondered  if  she  ever  bent 
a  bow.  If  he  were  a  painter  he  would  put  her  in 
a  picture  as  Diana. 

Carmelita  had  thrust  her  restive  womanhood 
under  and  bolted  a  trap-door  above  it,  but  she  made 
no  attempt  to  stifle  the  frankness  and  confidence 


LOS   CERRITOS.  l6/ 

the  stranger  inspired.  That  he  was  Tremaine  never 
occurred  to  her.  She  had  long  since  made  up  her 
mind  that  the  hated  tyrant  was  a  little  dried-up 
old  man  with  the  sardonic  features,  not  to  say  the 
cloven  hoof,  of  the  devil.  What  this  man's  name 
was  she  did  not  even  wish  to  know. 

Tremaine  looked  at  her  with  a  smile.  He  had 
a  very  charming  smile,  half -indulgent,  half -sym 
pathetic,  and  the  more  effective  in  that  the  gaze 
wThich  accompanied  it  was  usually  very  long  and 
direct,  as  if  he  found  it  hard  to  remove  his  eyes. 

"  That  is  good  reasoning  though,  especially  for  a 
woman,"  he  added  teasingly.  "  But  the  question 
has  often  arisen  in  rny  mind — you  will  understand, 
of  course,  that  there  is  nothing  personal  in  this; 
I  know  nothing  of  the  people  here— whether  the 
great  number  of  the  lower  classes  are  worth  doing 
anything  for;  whether  the  world  wrould  not  be 
better  if  a  good  many  of  them  were  out  of  it.  I 
have  often  thought  that  a  discriminating  plague 
would  solve  the  problem  better  than  all  the  rant 
ing  of  the  socialists.  Do  you  understand — those 
who  were  left  would  have  more  elbow-room  and  a 
surer  chance  to  rise." 


1 68  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"What!"  cried  Carmelita  with  flashing  eyes. 
"  I  no  believe  one  word  that.  Si  people  no  are 
of  use  in  the  world  why  they  are  born?  They  no 
come  cause  they  want;  they  come  cause  they  no 
can  help.  What  good  you  are  in  the  world?" 
She  put  the  question  with  a  struggle;  but  her 
wrongs  were  deep  and  always  mastered  her. 

He  laughed  somewhat  bitterly.  "  Beally,  seiio- 
rita,  none." 

"  You  have  plenty  moneys? " 

"  Yes;  a  good  deal." 

"And  what  you  do  with  it?" 

"  Well,  I  travel  a  good  deal,"  he  said,  now  highly 
amused,  "  and  I  buy  books  and  beautiful  things. 
Altogether  I  get  out  of  life  about  as  much  as  there 
is  in  it." 

"And  you  never  give  to  the  poor  peoples? " 

"  O  yes.  I  give  certain  regular  sums  to  certain 
charitable  institutions  and  I  generally  give  the 
newsboys  and  flower-girls  a  dinner  at  Christmas." 

"Well,  you  no  are  so  bad,"  admitted  Carmelita. 
"Have  you  the  land?" 

"  Yes— some." 

"And  what  you  do  with  it? " 


LOS   CERRITOS.  169 

"  Well,  I  rent  it  usually  to  farmers,  or  cattle- 
raisers.  Both  pay  very  well." 

"And  you  make  the  poor  man  pay  rent  when 
you  have  the  moneys  to  do  all  what  you  want? " 
This  with  deep  indignation. 

"  But,  my  dear  senorita,  I  would  not  have  the 
money  for  all  that  I  want  if  my  land  did  not  yield 
me  an  income.  If  my  land  were  not  rented  what 
good  would  it  do  me? " 

"And  you  think  you  are  more  of  importance 
than  the  hundred,  two,  three  hundred  farmers 
who  rent  your  land?"  cried  Carmelita  fiercely. 
"  You  think  it  is  right  that  the  poor  man  who 
work  all  the  day  give  you  half  what  he  make  so 
you  can  go  to  the  great  cities  and  buy  the  books? 
Si  you  do  that  I  think  you  are  very  bad  man." 

"  Upon  my  word,  you  make  me  feel  like  a  thief. 
But  will  you  allow  me  this  much  defence :  I  am 
not  responsible  for  the  existing  order  of  things. 
I  did  not  draw  the  social  diagram  nor  plant  the 
lawns  of  prosperity  and  the  vegetable  garden  of 
poverty.  Both  are  somewhat  time-honored  insti 
tutions  and  I  am  but  a  child  of  circumstances.  In 


I7O  LOS   CERRITOS. 

plainer  language  I  cannot  help  the  way  things  are, 
and  I  but  follow  the  lead  of  the  world." 

"Caramba!"  she  exclaimed,  "that  is  the  more 
foolish  thing  I  hear  you  say  yet.  The  padre  he 
say  it  is  the  custom  in  the  world  to  say  no  true. 
That  make  it  right  for  me  to  say  no  true?  The 
bad  mens  down  here  have  the  custom  to  steal  the 
horses  from  the  big  ranches.  That  make  it  right 
for  my  uncle  to  take  Miller's  horse?  No.  Si  half 
the  world  buy  all  the  land  and  keep  the  poor  out, 
it  no  is  more  right  than  si  only  one  man  do  it. 
What  is  right  is  right.  Custom  no  can  change." 

"  I  cannot  reason  with  this  girl,"  thought  Tre- 
maine,  "  she  is  too  keen  and  too  ignorant.  If  I 
should  tell  her  that  custom  does  change  things, 
she  would  merely  laugh  me  to  scorn.  And  if  I 
should  tell  her  that  I  once  made  a  fool  of  myself 
and  spent  more  money  than  she  could  count,  try 
ing  to  adjust  a  world  that  had  baffled  wiser  heads, 
she  would  simply  tell  me  to  go  back  and  peg  away 
until  I  made  off  to  a  world  where,  let  us  devoutly 
hope,  each  man  lives  in  a  golden  hut  and  political 
economy  is  an  unknown  science.  But  I  should 
like  to  talk  to  her  all  day.  "  What  is  that? "  he 


LOS   CERRITOS.  I/I 

demanded  abruptly.  The  bell  of  the  Mission  was 
tolling  above  him. 

"  It  is  the  vesper.  We  only  have  it  once  in  the 
week  now.  The  peoples  they  no  can  come  more 
often — once  they  feel  like  coming !  " 

Tremaine  looked  over  his  shoulder  through  the 
door  of  the  church.  "Have  you  an  organ?"  he 
asked  hesitatingly. 

Carmelita  leaned  forward  eagerly.  "  You— oh, 
you  make  the  musica?  Si,  we  have  one  or-gan. 
The  padre  he  buy  and  the  school-ma'am  she  play 
for  the  mass.  But  for  the  vesper  she  no  come; 
and  she  no  play  like  they  play  in  the  city,  the 
padre,  he  say.  0  senor,  play,  si  you  can.  I  so 
much  want  to  hear  the  musica  re-al." 

"  You  are  sure  your  padre  would  not  object? " 

"He  like!  He  love  the  musica.  For  that  he 
buy  the  or-gan" 

"  Very  well.  I  rely  upon  you  to  make  my  peace 
with  him."  He  followed  Carmelita  into  the  Mis 
sion  and  went  up  the  rude  steps  to  the  little  or 
gan  platform.  The  women,  with  shawls  pinned 
over  their  heads,  came  in  one  by  one,  dropped  on 
their  knees  and  crossed  themselves;  the  padre, 


LOS   CERRITOS. 

entering  from  the  sacristy,  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  and  knelt  before  the  altar;  Tremaine  began 
to  play  softly.  His  fingers  grasped  the  keys  as  if 
they  were  living  things  that  he  loved,  and  he  held 
them  as  if  he  would  draw  the  sound  from  the  or 
gan's  soul  and  imprison  it  in  his  own.  Carmelita 
listened  breathlessly,  ecstatically,  every  fibre  of 
her  nature  vibrating  in  unison.  Even  the  voice 
of  the  padre  grew  fuller  and  more  inspired. 

Tremaine  played  throughout  the  short  service, 
and  gazed  absently  upon  the  rude  religious  scene 
about  him  with  a  vague  feeling  that  it  was  one  of 
a  coming  series  of  pictures  he  should  never  forget. 
The  windows  were  gone  from  the  time-battered 
old  Mission,  the  plaster  peeled  from  its  walls,  the 
earthen  floor  was  sinking  above  the  buried  priests, 
forlornly  huddled  the  saints  on  the  altar.  Then 
through  the  melancholy  casements  came  a  flood  of 
golden  sunset,  and  for  a  few  brief  moments  the 
Mission  was  triumphant  in  splendor.  Even  the 
coarse  outlines  and  hard  care-worn  faces  of  the 
few  kneeling  worshippers  were  glorified  into  a 
short  unreal  beauty  like  that  given  by  a  halo  to 
the  commonplace  head  of  a  saint.  The  low  rich 


LOS   CERRITOS.  1/3 

notes  of  the  organ  throbbed  through  the  inarticu 
late  sound  of  prayer  and  the  voice  of  the  priest  as 
he  intoned  the  psalms;  but  without,  the  world 
might  have  sunk  to  eternal  rest,  it  was  so  quiet. 

The  padre  turned  to  his  people  and  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  then  withdrew  as  he  had  come ; 
the  women  stumbled  to  their  feet  and  passed  out, 
staring  with  drowsy  curiosity  at  the  unaccustomed 
organist,  but  Carmelita  remained  on  her  knees, 
spell-bound.  Then  Tremaine  struck  the  keys  with 
imperious  fingers  and  a  Gregorian  chant  pealed 
through  the  Mission,  filling  it  from  end  to  end. 
Carmelita  listened,  quivering  from  head  to  foot, 
then  suddenly  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  rushing  from 
the  church,  flew  over  the  hills  to  her  home. 


1/4  LOS  CERRITOS. 


IV. 

NATURE   AWAKENS. 

TREMAINE  had  arrived  at  the  Aguitas  at  mid 
night  to  find  that  Hawkins  had  heralded  him  as 
his  friend,  Mr.  Smith. 

"  You  must  keep  dark  till  the  sheriffs  turn  up," 
he  explained  as  he  hustled  Tremaine  into  his  room. 
"  These  squatters'd  as  soon  kill  yer  as  look  at  yer. 
I  know  you  ain't  afraid  of  nothin',"  in  reply  to 
Tremaiiie's  impatient  protest,  "  but  yer'd  jest  be  a 
fool,  nothin'  morn  less,  if  yer  went  passearin' 
around  this  blazin'  ranch  in  yer  own  name  before 
the  sheriffs  come,  and  I  don't  spose  yer  want  to 
be  cooped  up  in  this  hole." 

"  When  are  the  sheriffs  expected? " 

"  Not  for  two  or  three  days.  They're  after  a 
murderer  and  they  can't  come  here  till  they've 
run  him  down.  Now  be  reasonable,  Mister  Tre 
maine.  It  wouldn't  be  bravery,  it  ud  jest  be 
damned  tomfoolery." 


LOS  CERRITOS.  175 

Tremaine  slept  on  the  proposition  and  concluded 
that  his  prudent  servitor  was  right.  He  wanted 
a  few  days  of  solitude  and  aimless  wandering,  and 
he  had  no  desire  to  take  either,  pistol  in  hand. 
He  always  experienced  a  sense  of  freedom  and  of 
infinite  possibilities  when  in  the  wilds  of  Califor 
nia  that  he  never  felt  elsewhere,  and  he  had  a 
mighty  desire  to  get  out  of  himself  once  more. 
The  interval  before  the  sheriffs'  coming  was  brief, 
but  it  was  something,  and  then — the  more  excite 
ment  the  better. 

The  day  after  his  first  interview  with  Carmelita 
he  met  her  again  as  he  was  riding  along  the  river- 
bank,  fishing-pole  in  hand.  She  turned  from  him 
in  a  sort  of  blind  terror.  All  night  she  had  lain 
face  downward  on  her  bed,  refusing  to  think,  but 
hearing  always  vast  harmonies,  peals  of  melody, 
which  ever  and  anon  broke  into  shrieking  discords. 
Once  or  twice  she  had  half  sprung  from  the  bed, 
the  blind  instinct  of  the  animal  for  its  mate  mov 
ing  restlessly  in  its  sleep  beneath  her  heart. 

"  I  was  hoping  to  meet  you,"  cried  Tremaine. 
"  I  am  sure  you  can  tell  me  where  to  find  some 
good  fishing.  I  see  nothing  here." 


176  LOS   CERRITOS. 

His  direct  matter-of-fact  words  broke  the  spell 
of  the  night. 

u  In  the  creek  on  the  mountain  are  plenty  feesh," 
she  said.  "  I  see  them  often." 

"  So  I  have  heard.  But  I  do  not  know  the  way. 
Won't  you  be  good  enough  to  show  me? "  He 
had  suddenly  lost  his  desire  for  solitude. 

"  It  is  there,"  pointing  to  the  olive  mountains. 

"  But,  senorita,  that  is  a  mountain  forest  and  I 
am  sure  the  creek  does  not  run  around  the  outside 
of  it.  Please  come  with  me." 

Carmelita  hesitated.  "  Bueno,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  Wait  here  till  I  come." 

She  was  but  a  short  distance  from  her  uncle's 
hacienda  and  returned  in  a  few  moments  on  the 
unprincipled  mustang.  Tremaine  could  not  re 
press  a  smile  as  she  approached  him.  She  be 
strode  the  animal  as  unconcernedly  as  a  lad  and 
dug  her  little  bare  heels  into  its  flanks.  The  red 
collar  of  her  blouse  fell  away  from  her  strong 
brown  throat  and  her  position  pulled  the  short 
skirt  to  her  knees.  "  She  was  never  born  for  clothes 
at  all,"  Tremaine  thought;  "she  might  be  the 
primitive  woman." 


LOS  CERRITOS.  177 

Carmelita  led  the  way  across  the  narrow  bridge, 
then,  raising  her  bridle,  started  off  on  a  mild  can 
ter.  She  was  not  inclined  to  be  talkative,  and 
Tremaine,  after  two  or  three  futile  attempts  to 
draw  her  ont,  gave  it  np  and  consoled  himself 
with  the  beauty  of  the  day.  A  week  of  warm 
weather,  which  had  come  like  a  wave  straight  from 
the  inner  chambers  of  the  sun,  had  ripened  the 
country  into  a  glory  of  color.  Beds  of  pale  blue 
baby-eyes  bordered  hillocks  of  red  and  yellow 
poppies,  and  between  the  groves  of  moss-draped 
trees  were  miniature  forests  of  gold  and  purple 
lupins.  The  grain  wTas  waving  in  the  fields,  and 
the  gophers,  whistling,  sped  through  the  grass. 

"  There  is  no  more  lovely  spot  in  California,  or 
anywhere  else,  for  that  matter,"  exclaimed  Tre 
maine  enthusiastically.  "  I  could  never  tire  of  it, 
and  I  am  sure  you  never  have." 

"  No,"  said  Carmelita,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears 
and  turning  her  head  away,  "  I  never  tire." 

"You  shall  not  go,"  he  exclaimed  impulsively; 
and  as  she  turned  to  him  in  surprise,  "  I  know 

this  man,  Tremaine,  and  have  some  influence  with 
12 


1/8  LOS   CERRITOS. 

Mm.  I  am  sure  I  can  persuade  him  to  let  you 
keep  your  farm." 

She  raised  her  head  proudly.  "  Si  all  go,  I  go. 
Si  he  give  to  all  because  it  is  right,  I  stay;  but  I 
no  take  from  him  like  a  favor." 

"  What  a  combination  she  is !  "  he  thought,  "  she 
makes  other  women  seem  like  dolls."  Aloud  he 
said,  "  But  would  you  not  stay  for  your  uncle's 
sake?  He  surely  does  not  want  to  go." 

"  My  uncle  no  would  stay  si  the  others  go." 

"  Not  for  the  sake  of  his  wife  and  children? " 

Her  pride  showed  signs  of  weakening.  "  I  no 
know.  It  is  hard  to  hear  the  childrens  cry  for  the 
food  and  for  the  closes  to  keep  warm." 

"  But  surely  you  have  never  heard  that.  This 
seems  to  be  the  land  of  plenty." 

She  laughed  bitterly.  "  It  no  was  the  land  of 
plenty  this  winter,  senor.  We  have  give  all  the 
moneys  to  the  lawyers  and  no  have  much  left  to 
buy  the  beans  and  the  flour.  And  it  was  very 
cold,  senor,  and  rain,  rain,  rain.  Three  or  four 
childrens  die  by  the  lungs.  Si  we  no  have  the 
padre  and  the  senora  I  think  we  starve." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  179 

"  It  isn't  possible !  "  exclaimed  Tremaine.  "Are 
you  as  poor  as  that? " 

"  O  serior,  we  are  very  poor! " 

"  Great  heaven!  "  he  thought,  "  I  will  give  these 
people  the  price  of  their  crops.  No  wonder  they 
made  a  row,  poor  devils.  I  shall  certainly  speak 
to  Tremaine,"  he  said,  "  and  I  know  he  will  do 
something  for  these  men." 

"  Oh,  he  no  will!  "  cried  the  girl.  "  He  is  a  per- 
fec  devil.  He  have  a  heart  black  like  the  earth 
the  gopher  over  there  turn  up,  but  hard  like  the 
stones  in  the  creek." 

Tremaine  felt  much  as  if  his  ears  had  been  boxed. 

"  But  perhaps  he  did  not  understand,"  he  expos 
tulated,  "  when  I  explain  matters  to  him  I  am  sure 
he  will  do  all  he  can  to  compensate  you." 

Then  he  experienced  a  strong  desire  to  change 
the  conversation.  There  should  be  no  clouds  on 
so  perfect  a  day,  and  he  might  never  have  this  girl 
alone  again.  "By  the  way,"  he  said  abruptly, 
"  is  there  a  Mrs.  Pollock  staying  in  the  neighbor 
hood — on  any  of  these  ranches? " 

Carmelita  shook  her  head.     "  Who  she  is? " 

"  She  is  a  woman  who  was  once  a  great  belle  in 


I  So  LOS   CERRITOS. 

San  Francisco.  There  was  a  rumor  of  an  unfor 
tunate  affair,  which  you  would  not  understand, 
seiiorita,  and  she  suddenly  disappeared.  It  was 
supposed  at  first  that  she  had  gone  abroad 
again,  but  of  late  it  has  come  to  be  generally 
understood  that  she  is  living  on  a  ranch  in  Cen 
tral  California." 

Carmelita  caught  her  breath.  Could  he  mean 
Geraldine?  But  her  loyalty  was  stronger  than 
her  curiosity.  She  raised  her  hand  and  pointed 
to  the  mountains  they  were  approaching. 

"  Mira,"  she  said. 

The  soft  olive  curtain  had  slowly  lifted  and  the 
mountain  no  longer  looked  like  a  mirage.  The 
redwoods  stood  out  boldly  against  the  darkening 
aisles,  and  the  wind  rising,  sighed  a  welcome 
through  the  pines. 

Tremaine's  lids  fell  lower.  The  world  was  still, 
but  he  felt  the  litany  of  the  redwoods.  Nature 
laid  her  heart  against  his  own  and  stilled  its  dis 
content.  Carmelita,  with  rapt  eyes,  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross,  and  he  felt  her  kinship.  If  there  had 
been  even  less  of  common  language  between  them 
he  would  at  that  moment  have  divined  the  comrade 


LOS   CERRITOS.  l8l 

in  her  as  absolutely  and  uniquely  as  if  they  had 
whispered  confidences  from  the  hour  of  birth. 

She  did  not  take  him  up  the  mountain  by  her 
usual  trail,  but  by  one  rougher,  more  precipitous, 
and  a  mile  beyond. 

"  Better  we  tie  the  horses  here,  so  they  no  feel 
tire  out,"  she  said  after  they  had  climbed  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile.  "  You  can  walk  the  rest  of  the 
way,  no?  It  no  is  very  far." 

Tremaine  dismounted,  glad  to  be  on  his  legs 
again.  He  turned  to  help  Carmelita,  but  she  was 
already  on  the  ground  tethering  her  mustang. 
She  sprang  as  lightly  as  a  squirrel  up  the  steep 
trail,  but  paused  after  a  time  to  await  Tremaine, 
who  was  following  with  less  agility. 

"Now  we  go  through  the  brush,"  she  called 
down  to  him.  "  I  hope  you  no  tear  your  closes." 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  looked  up  at  her. 
She  was  several  yards  above  him,  standing  on  a 
sort  of  shelf  that  projected  over  the  path.  Behind 
was  a  dense  mass  of  green  and  above  her  towered 
the  redwoods.  Her  hands  rested  lightly  on  her 
splendid  young  hips  and  her  head  was  a  little 
thrown  back.  The  round  elastic  form  looked  as 


1 82  LOS   CERRITOS. 

if  it  might  bound  away  into  the  forest  like  a  deer, 
and  her  great  eyes  seemed  guarding  the  mystery 
of  the  forest's  infancy,  locked  in  their  depths. 

He  went  up  the  path,  as  usual  saying  what  was 
second  in  his  mind. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  brush." 

She  looked  at  the  clothes  he  wore,  then  at  the 
redwoods.  "They  are  gray  like  the  trees,"  she 
said;  "sometime  I  think  you  are  a  redwood  be 
fore,"  and  then  she  dashed  into  the  willows. 

Tremaine  put  his  hat  in  the  pocket  of  his  fish 
ing  jacket  and  holding  his  rod  in  one  hand,  forced 
back  the  boughs  with  the  other.  Conversation 
was  not  to  be  thought  of  here.  The  slender,  re 
bounding  branches  switched  his  face  as  if  he  were 
a  disobedient  school-boy,  the  wild-rose  trees  caught 
at  his  trousers,  and  the  lilacs,  sweet  as  they  were, 
filled  his  eyes  with  a  blinding  shower.  He 
emerged  upon  the  bluff  overhanging  the  creek, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

•'  Thank  heaven  that  is  over,"  he  exclaimed  fer 
vently.  "  Do  you  come  here  often? " 

"  No  by  this  way.     I  have  another  more  open." 

"  Then  why — why  did  you  bring  me  this  way? " 


LOS   CERRITOS.  183 

"  I  have  reason,"  said  Carmelita,  and  Tremaine, 
quite  snubbed,  put  on  his  hat  and  followed  her 
down  the  bluff. 

"  Have  be  careful,"  she  said, "  the  earth  is  loose." 

Slipping,  sliding,  and  catching  at  shrubs,  they 
reached 'the  creek.  Carmelita  waded  out  into  the 
middle,  then  turned  to  Tremaine. 

"  You  mus  come  in,"  she  said.  "  You  no  can 
catch  on  the  bank.  It  no  is  deep  enough  there. 
Oh!  I  forget.  You  mus  take  oif  your  shoses  and 
stockings — no  put  on  the  boots." 

"  They  are  rubber  boots,"  he  said,  and  followed 
his  guide  into  the  water. 

"When  you  see  the  feesh  you  stand  on  the 
rocks  and  throw  out  the  line,"  she  said,  "  I  hold 
the  basket  for  you.  There  one  is  now." 

He  mounted  the  slippery  rocks,  whipped  the 
stream  and  his  first  fish  swung  slowly  to  Came- 
lita,  who  stood  on  a  big  stone  near  by. 

"  Bueno !  "  she  said  approvingly.  "  Now  come 
after  me  and  have  be  careful  for  the  sharp  stones." 

They  plodded  up  the  stream  for  an  hour,  Tre 
maine  catching  a  number  of  fine  trout.  It  was 
very  beautiful,  very  cool,  and  very  quiet.  Noth- 


1 84  LOS  CERRITOS. 

ing  could  be  wilder  or  more  picturesque,  nothing 
more  calmly  eloquent  of  the  gulf  between  nature 
and  art.  Great  bunches  of  ice-grass  with  their 
slender  sweeping  strands  reflected  in  the  gliding 
waters ;  banks  of  ferns,  thick  and  strong  as  young 
forests,  or  delicate  as  lace  for  a  woman's'  gown ; 
gnarled  and  twisted  roots  of  trees,  some  massive, 
others  in  their  first  cycle,  crawling  in  and  out  of 
the  steep  sides  of  the  bluffs  like  writhing  living 
things,  side  by  side  with  fresh  vivid  patches  of 
wet  moss  or  an  occasional  oak  that  stretched  out 
at  right  angles  from  the  cliff;  sloping  banks  hid 
den  beneath  dense  beds  of  feathery  fox-tail  and 
gay  pageant  of  lilies ;  wild  fragrant  honeysuckles, 
and  masses  of  pink  azaleas ;  sweeping  willows  and 
crisp  laurel;  and  high  above,  the  mountain  with 
its  silent  redwoods  and  bending  pines.  In  the 
creek  were  dim  tideless  pools  and  tiny  white- 
tipped  tumbling  falls.  Side  by  side  were  many- 
hued  rocks  and  great  logs,  now  covered,  now 
rearing  their  heads  like  watchful  crocodiles.  The 
winding  sweep  was  lost  in  darkening  sun-flecked 
cave-like  perspective.  To  great  overhanging  boul 
ders  dripping,  moss-grown,  magnificent  bunches 


LOS   CERRITOS.  185 

of  maiden-hair  clung;  on  mossy  island-like  rocks 
in  the  creek  grew  little  groves  of  ferns  and  grasses 
and  tiny  trees.  A  glorious  wealth  of  color  below, 
a  flaming  lake  in  a  vault  of  lapis  lazuli  above,  a 
great  wonderful  silence,  broken  only  by  a  solitary 
kingfisher  swooping  noisely  down  the  creek,  or 
the  wind  surging  through  the  tree-tops  like  a 
suspended  ocean. 

Carmelita's  gloom  had  vanished  and  she  found 
herself  wondering  if  only  a  few  miles  away  lay  a 
ranch  whose  gay  spring  gown  was  a  bitter  mock 
ery.  Her  unquiet  heart  drowsed  in  a  vague 
sweet  languor.  Was  there  a  world  beyond,  or 
had  a  wall,  higher  than  the  highest  peak,  suddenly 
girdled  the  mountain  and  shut  her  in  forever  with 
her  redwood  lover?  She  looked  at  Tremaine  and 
smiled  at  the  fancy.  He  was  balancing  himself 
on  a  rock,  angling  desperately.  His  brows  were 
frowning  in  the  intensity  of  absorption  and  his 
nose  was  getting  sunburnt.  He  caught  his  fish 
and  glanced  overhead. 

"  It  is  getting  hot,"  he  said.  "  Let  us  sit  on  the 
bank  over  yonder  for  a  while." 

She  followed  him  to  a  green  willow-garrisoned 


1 86  LOS   CERRITOS. 

patch  of  land  beneath  the  bank,  and  he  threw 
himself  on  the  ground  with  a  gratified  sigh. 

"  It  is  deliciously  cool  here  and  this  place  is  too 
lovely  for  fishing.  I  have  never — never — seen  any 
thing  so  beautiful."  He  lay  for  a  few  moments, 
looking  slowly  about  him,  then  turned  to  her. 
"  You  love  it  too,"  he  said,  "  I  have  watched  you. 
Whenever  you  raise  your  eyes  you  look  as  awed 
as  if  the  gates  of  heaven  had  suddenly  opened." 

She  held  her  arms  up  to  the  trees,  then  dropped 
them.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  love  them." 

"  Do  you  come  here  often? " 

"  Yes.  These  trees  are  my  friends  like  you  have 
the  mens.  I  have  give  them  names,  and,  you  no 
may  believe,  but  they  can  talk." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it."  She  was  sitting  on  a  fallen 
log  a  yard  from  him,  but  he  felt  as  if  she  were  in 
his  arms.  He  felt  companioned  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life.  "I  have  lived  for  months  alone  in 
California  forests  and  I  have  had  a  sense  of  inti 
macy  with  trees  that  I  never  had  for  gabbling 
mortals.  I  doubt — I  have  doubted—  if  any  human 
being  could  come  as  near."  He  pointed  with  his 
fishing  rod  to  a  madrona.  "  Look  at  that  creature 


LOS   CERRITOS.  iS/ 

with  her  red  kid  gown  and  her  bodice  of  bur 
nished  bronze.  No  woman  is  so  slender  and  so 
well  dressed  as  she.  Once  she  was  an  Indian 
maiden,  so  perfect  that  Nature  dared  not  let  her 
die.  That  redwood  there  loved  her  as  Romeo 
loved  Juliet,  and  bitterness  of  race  kept  them 
apart  until  what  we  call  death  united  them. 
When  I  die  I  pray  I  may  become  a  redwood,  for 
no  destiny  seems  to  me  so  eternal  in  its  peace,  so 
sublime  in  its  strength." 

Carmelita  looked  at  him  with  dilating  eyes  and 
throbbing  throat.  The  confession  he  moved  her 
to  had  a  different  origin  from  the  one  that  Geral- 
dine  had  inspired. 

"  I  will  tell  you  " — she  whispered. 

"  What? "  he  asked  eagerly. 

And  then  she  told  him  her  soul's  romance. 
"  When  I  see  you  yesterday,"  she  said  in  conclu 
sion,  "  I  think  my  redwood  have  come  down  and 
walk  on  the  ranch.  Now  I  know  why.  You  love 
the  trees  and  know  them  like  myself.  No  one 
else  I  ever  know  do  that." 

Tremaine  sat  up  suddenly  and  took  a  package 
from  the  pocket  of  his  basket.  "  Let  us  eat  our 


1 88  LOS  CERRITOS. 

luncheon,"  lie  said  almost  coldly.  "It  must  be 
noon,  and  I  am  hungry." 

They  ate  the  rough  sandwiches  provided  by  the 
landlady  of  the  Aguitas,  and  chatted  of  trifling 
things.  At  the  meal's  conclusion  he  produced  his 
travelling  cup,  and  she  took  it  from  him. 

"  I  get  you  some  water  from  the  little  fall,"  she 
said,  "  it  is  cold  like  mountain  air  in  winter." 

She  waded  into  the  creek  and  kneeling  on  a 
rock,  caught  the  bubbles  as  they  boiled  over.  Her 
long  braids  trailed  on  the  stream  and  the  water 
reflected  her  strong  round  limbs  and  perfect  face. 
A  mermaid  was  rising  to  the  surface.  Tremaine, 
who  was  on  his  feet,  saw  the  reflection. 

"  Stay  where  you  are  for  a  moment,"  he  said. 
"  Do  not  move."  He  put  his  foot  on  a  rock  and 
swinging  himself  up  the  bank,  tore  a  great  bunch 
of  maidenhair  from  its  boulder.  He  leaped  to  the 
earth  again,  gathered  an  arm-full  of  ice  grass  and 
heavy  ferns  and  waded  out  to  Carmelita.  She 
looked  up  at  him  inquiringly,  but  made  no  re 
monstrance  as  he  twisted  the  maidenhair  in  her 
own  bluish  locks  and  thrust  the  ferns  into  the 
belt  and  neck  of  her  gown. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  189 

"  Now  look  at  yourself,"  lie  said.  "  No  gold- 
haired  Lorlei  was  ever  so  wonderful  as  this,"  and 
together  they  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  rock 
and  looked  down. 

"  I  look  si  I  grow  out  the  ferns,"  she  whispered, 
gazing  at  her  luminous  face  beneath  its  waving 
crown.  Then  her  head  moved  and  she  looked  into 
Tremaine's  reflected  eyes.  He  was  kneeling  very 
close  to  her,  for  the  rock  was  narrow.  "Your 
eyes  look  like  the  sky  when  a  storm  coming  and  it 
turn  from  blue  to  gray"  —she  murmured,  and 
then  paused  suddenly. 

Nature,  lying  on  her  feathered  couch  in  vast 
singing  halls,  opened  her  eyes,  smiled,  and  dipping 
her  white  fingers  in  a  fount  beside  her,  sent  up 
ward  a  wave  of  golden  ether,  light  as  wine,  sweet 
as  the  essences  whereon  the  flowers  supped.  It 
surged  over  the  two  kneeling  there,  over  and 
about  them ;  it  swept  in  a  warm  pungent  current 
through  their  veins  and  mourfted  in  flood  tide  to 
their  heads.  The  outlines  of  the  scene  about  them 
were  gone,  the  world  was  a  shimmering  sea  of 
light  whose  waves  tossed  perfume  in  the  air, 
whose  depths  murmured  the  echo  of  all  the  bliss 


IQO  LOS   CERRITOS. 

the  world  had  ever  known.  Then  the  wave  re 
ceded,  slowly,  and  in  its  wake  was  the  chill  of 
death.  Tremaine  sprang  to  his  feet,  nearly  over 
turning  the  stone,  and  Camelita,  shivering  from 
head  to  foot,  slipped  into  the  water  and  waded  to 
the  bank. 

"  My  God !  "  thought  Tremaine,  "  am  I  in  love 
with  this  girl?  What  damnable  folly !  "  He  strode 
after  her  and  caught  up  his  fishing  rod  and  bas 
ket.  "Come!  let  us  go  home,"  he  said,  almost 
roughly.  "I  have  business  this  afternoon  and 
have  stayed  too  long  already." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  19 1 


V. 

THE   PRIEST   AND   THE   WOMAN. 

GEKALDINE  opened  her  door  and  stepped  out 
into  the  court.  The  moon  like  a  bashful  school 
girl  looked  at  the  earth  over  her  curving  arm. 
Clouds  drifted  before  the  budding  stars,  and  in 
the  far  perspective  of  the  picture  seen  through 
the  open  end  of  the  court  the  shadows  were  thick 
as  crowding  ghosts.  The  trees  were  as  quiet  as  if 
the  hurrying  wind  had  never  quivered  them,  and 
not  a  sound  broke  that  lonely  stillness  but  the 
low  continuous  croaking  of  the  frogs  and  the 
abrupt  occasional  hoot  of  the  owl. 

She  shivered  and  drew  her  long  cloak  about  her. 
"  I  wonder  if  any  spot  on  earth  is  as  quiet  as  this," 
she  thought.  "  Sometimes  I  find  myself  believing 
that  this  ranch  is  really  a  wandering  satellite,  and 
that  once  it  touched  the  earth  and  I  stepped  on." 
She  left  the  court  and  wandered  to  the  stile,  and 
leaned  against  it  for  a  few  moments,  then  turned 


IQ2  LOS  CERRITOS. 

it  suddenly  and  walked  down  the  hill  to  the  road. 
"  It  is  horribly  lonely,"  she  thought,  "  but  I  must 
have  exercise,  and  the  night  is  the  only  time.  I 
am  mad  with  everlasting  pacing  up  and  down  that 
narrow  gallery." 

She  walked  on  and  on,  starting  at  the  shadows 
and  once  screaming  aloud  as  a  soft  bat  brushed 
her  face,  then  forgetting  fear  and  time  in  her  own 
unhappy  thoughts.  A  hope  was  creeping  on 
stealthy  hands  and  knees  through  her  heart,  born, 
as  many  hopes  are,  of  desire  alone,  but  with  vital 
pulses.  A  dark  mass  loomed  before  her  and  she 
knew  that  it  must  be  the  Mission.  Then  Hope 
sprang  to  its  feet,  transformed  to  Will.  Never 
theless  the  woman  put  her  hands  to  her  eyes  with 
a  terrified  cry  and  her  body  swayed  as  if  the  earth 
were  rolling  beneath  it.  Then  her  limbs  grew 
rigid  and  she  crept  about  the  corner  of  the  Mis 
sion  and  stood  before  the  padre's  house.  One 
bright  window  was  like  a  jewel  set  in  an  iron  wall, 
and  she  advanced  with  careful  steps  and  looked 
through  the  thin  cotton  curtain.  A  man  sat  by 
the  chimney  piece,  his  arms  folded,  his  chin  low 
ered  on  his  chest,  his  hollowed  eyes  staring  at  the 


LOS   CERRITOS.  193 

empty  fireplace.  Geraldine  sank  inertly  to  the 
ground,  her  locked  hands  thrusting  themselves 
unconsciously  between  the  wide  cracks  in  the 
adobe  soil.  "He  is  changed  —  changed"  —  she 
whispered  with  eyes  turned  to  the  past,  then 
started  in  terror  and  wondered  if  she  had  screamed 
the  words  aloud. 

But  there  was  no  sound  in  the  house,  and  in  a 
moment  she  raised  herself,  and  turned  as  if  to  fly 
down  the  road,  then  went  suddenly  to  the  door 
and  lifted  the  latch.  The  key  had  been  turned. 
She  knocked  loudly  on  the  thick  oak  panel.  The 
padre  came  at  once  with  a  lamp  in  his  hand. 

"  Who  is  it? "  he  asked  kindly,  for  he  was  used 
to  sudden  calls. 

He  saw  that  a  woman  stood  before  him,  but  the 
fog  ocean  tossed  before  the  moon.  She  made  no 
answer.  He  held  the  lamp  high  above  his  head 
and  it  shone  full  on  the  white  face  and  gleaming 
hair  of  the  woman.  With  a  hoarse  cry,  he  fell 
back  into  the  darkness,  until  she  could  see  noth 
ing  but  his  blanched  horrified  face.  She  sprang 
forward,  and  taking  the  lamp  from  his  relaxing 
fingers,  grasped  his  arm  and  almost  pushed  him 


194  LOS   CERRITOS. 

into  the  study.  He  threw  himself  into  a  chair 
and  covered  his  face  with  his  trembling  fingers, 
then  suddenly  sprang  to  his  feet  and  pointed  to 
the  open  door. 

"  Go!  "  he  cried  imperiously,  "  Go!  " 

"  No,  not  yet,"  she  said.  "  Let  me  stay  a  moment. 
I  did  not  plan  this  visit,  but  now  that  I  am  here  I 
must  stay  and  speak."  He  turned  from  her  and 
leaned  his  elbow  on  the  chimney  piece.  "  Do  you 
know,"  she  went  on,  hardly  knowing  what  she 
said,  "  that  I  have  lived  here  for  more  than  a  year  ? 
That  I  came  here  to  be  near  you? " 

He  moved  abruptly,  but  made  no  reply.  "  I 
shall  stay  near  you  until  I  die,"  she  went  on. 

The  priest's  rigid  fingers  dug  his  face  until  the 
blood  almost  started.  "  O  God,  go !  "  he  groaned, 
"Go!  Go!" 

She  moved  to  approach  him,  but  he  turned 
swiftly  and  held  out  his  arm. 

"  Do  not  come  near  me,"  he  muttered. 

Geraldine's  cloak  had  slipped  to  the  floor  and 
her  slender  black-robed  figure  looked  vibrant 
with  suppressed  emotion.  Her  heavy  hair  had 
tumbled  from  its  pins,  a  flame  had  sprung  from 


LOS   CERRITOS.  195 

the  clear  fathomless  depths  of  her  perilous  eyes. 
But  as  she  held  out  her  arms  there  was  no  volup 
tuous  seduction  in  her  manner.  When  a  woman 
really  loves  and  her  heart  is  racked  with  agony 
and  doubt,  passion  is  frozen  and  art  is  forgotten. 
But  a  great  cry  escaped  from  her  soul. 

"Come!  Come!  Let  us  go  where  the  church 
cannot  follow  us." 

"  Traitress !  "  he  shouted,  making  no  further  at 
tempt  to  control  himself,  "  I  hate  you!  How  dare 
you  come  to  me?  What  farce  is  this  that  brings 
you  to  bury  yourself  in  an  adobe  hovel?  Is  it 
your  idea  of  penance?  You  have  come  here  to  be 
near  me  and  you  will  stay  near  me  until  you  die ! 
My  God !  what  irony.  Go !  for  I  have  nothing  to 
say  to  you.  Not  a  word." 

She  sprang  forward  with  a  low,  frightened  cry, 
but  he  retreated  before  her.  "  Not  another  word," 
he  said,  "  I  will  not  listen  to  it.  Leave  the  house 
at  once  or  I  shall  leave  it." 

For  a  moment  the  woman  stood  staring  incred 
ulously  at  him,  but  in  his  eyes  was  no  relenting. 
Then  with  an  imperious  movement  of  her  head, 


196  LOS  CERRITOS. 

she  sank  slowly  on  her  knees,  raising  her  arm 
until  the  hand  showed  white  against  the  dark. 

"  My  father,"  she  said,  "  I  command  you  to  hear 
my  confession." 

The  priest  caught  his  breath,  and  raised  both 
clenched  hands  to  his  breast ;  but  his  faith  was 
strong  within  him  and  he  stood  while  she  spoke. 


LOS  CERRITOS.  197 


VI. 

IN  THE  SHADOW   OF  THE  MISSION. 

THE  next  evening  Tremaine  was  walking  among 
the  woods  of  the  ranch,  endeavoring  to  outstride 
his  own  uneasy  thoughts,  when  he  was  arrested 
by  a  peculiar  sound.  A  bird  was  calling  and  an 
other  was  answering,  but  in  the  voice  of  the  bird 
who  seemed  to  be  on  the  ground,  was  a  strangely 
human  note.  He  stood  for  some  moments  listen 
ing  to  the  dialogue.  The  moon  was  flooding  the 
wood  and  he  suddenly  saw  something  move  be 
neath  a  tree.  It  looked  like  a  human  form  and 
he  put  his  hand  mechanically  to  his  pistol.  At 
the  same  moment  he  stepped  on  a  crackling 
branch,  and  in  the  face  quickly  turned  to  him  he 
recognized  Carmelita. 

She  raised  her  finger  warningly.  "  No  make  a 
noise,"  she  whispered,  "  but  come  si  you  like." 

Tremaine,  much  mystified  but  nothing  loath, 


198  LOS   CERRITOS. 

walked  softly  over  to  her,  and  sank  on  the  ground 
at  her  side. 

"  Listen."  She  raised  her  voice  and  warbled  a 
few  strains,  and  Treniaine  recognized  the  para 
doxical  bird.  A  shower  of  notes  fell  from  above 
and  for  some  moments  the  duo  went  on.  Tre- 
maine  was  deeply  interested  and  felt  that  this 
strange  girl  was  about  to  reveal  herself  in  a  new 
phase.  He  might  be  better  off  were  he  a  thou 
sand  miles  away  from  this  ranch,  but  he  felt  a  su 
preme  content  that  he  was  not.  Her  small  brown 
hand  lay  on  her  knee  and  his  own  closed  suddenly 
over  it.  For  a  moment  the  duo  was  threatened, 
and  then  Carmelita's  voice  went  on  in  richer  mea 
sure.  After  a  time  she  paused  and  turned  to  him. 

"  You  know  what  I  do? "  she  asked. 

"  I  do  not." 

"  That  poor  bird — you  no  know  how  sad  he  is ! 
He  losta  his  wife  in  the  winter.  The  rain  wash 
her  down  from  the  nest  one  day.  I  find  her  and 
bury  her  here  by  the  tree.  The  poor  bird  he  is  so 
lonely,  senor!  I  come  talk  to  him  sometimes  and 
he  feel  better.  To-night  he  tell  me  the  whole 
story  again.  You  like  to  hear  it,  senor? " 


LOS   CERRITOS.  199 

Tremaine,  who  was  divided  between  a  desire  to 
laugh  and  to  kiss  her,  murmured  that  nothing 
would  give  him  more  pleasure. 

"  Well,  you  see  it  was  like  this.  It  rain  so  hard 
las  winter  that  the  nests  no  were  strong  in  the 
trees.  One  day  it  no  rain,  but  the  clouds  are 
black  like  the  river,  and  this  bird  and  his  wife  go 
to  call  on  nother  bird  to  see  si  they  can  borrow 
some  grass  to  tie  their  nest  more  firm.  But  no 
one  have  any  to  spare;  all  are  fraid  like  them 
selves.  One  bird  ask  them  to  stay  in  his  house, 
but  Enrique — that  is  the  name  de  my  bird — no 
want,  for  he  and  his  wife  no  been  marry  long  and 
they  like  be  together.  So,  late  they  go  home,  and 
he  kiss  her  and  tell  her  no  be  fright,  and  tuck  her 
in  bed.  Bime  by  she  go  to  sleep,  and  he  spread 
his  wing  over  her,  so  she  no  get  wet  si  the  rain 
come;  and  bime  by  he  go  to  sleep  too.  Then, 
senor,  in  the  night  come  the  rain.  It  is  like  the 
river  jump  to  the  sky  and  then  fall  down  in  one 
big  sheet.  It  wash  the  nest  from  the  tree,  senor, 
and  just  sweep  the  poor  little  birds  to  the  groun. 
Then  it  beat  on  them  like  stones,  it  come  so  fast. 
Enrique  no  could  cry  out  and  ask  his  wife  how  she 


20O  LOS   CERRITOS. 

is.  He  no  can  see,  and  bime  by  he  no  feel.  The 
rain  beat  his  senses  away.  And  the  next  morn 
ing,  senor,  when  he  wake,  it  have  clear  off,  and 
there  in  the  nest — he  no  was  in  himself — was 
poor  little  Manita,  dead.  The  rain  wash  her  life 
away.  Oh,  senor !  he  cry,  cry,  all  the  day.  Then 
I  come  and  find  him  with  his  wing  over  her,  and 
his  voice  so  sad  I  sit  down  in  the  mud  and  cry 
too.  And  then  I  dig  the  grave  and  the  padre  he 
make  a  little  cross.  And  Enrique  never  leave  this 
tree.  I  find  him  here  always." 

Tremaine  bent  his  head  and  looked  in  her  face. 
The  story  had  touched  him,  but  the  girl's  wild 
tender  nature  appealed  to  him  more  thrillingly 
than  the  sad  little  tragedy  of  the  bird. 

"And  he  never  married  again?"  he  asked,  as 
comment  was  required. 

Carmelita's  eyes  flashed.  "  Of  course  not !  He 
no  love  her  ? " 

Tremaine  stood  up  suddenly.  "  I  have  a  fancy 
to  see  the  old  Mission  by  moonlight,"  he  said. 
"Will  you  come  with  me?  or — would  you  rather 
go  home.  It  is  late." 

"  I  go  to  the  Mission,"  said  Camielita  obligingly. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  2OI 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  warbled  a  few  notes.  A 
plaintive  voice  responded,  and  she  followed  Tre- 
maine  down  the  path. 

"  He  say  good-night.  You  hear  ?  He  is  very 
sorry  I  go." 

"  Undoubtedly."  He  made  no  further  attempt 
at  conversation  until  they  reached  the  Mission, 
when  again  his  conscience  smote  him  and  he  asked 
her  if  she  should  not  be  at  home. 

"Are  you  sure  your  aunt  will  not  be  worried? 
It  must  be  nearly  eleven  o'clock." 

"  My  aunt  have  the  other  childrens  and  always 
I  do  what  I  feel  like.  Sometimes  when  I  go  to 
the  mountain  and  no  feel  like  come  home  I  sleep 
in  a  tree  that  been  eat  out  by  the  fire  and  my 
aunt  she  no  mind.  She  love  me,  but  you  see  she 
have  so  many  others,"  and  she  pushed  a  box 
against  the  wall  and  sat  down. 

The  supreme  isolation  of  her  life,  conveyed  in 
the  careless  almost  absent  words,  again  gave 
Tremaine  a  sense  of  having  touched  her  soul  with 
his.  His  own  loneliness  was  so  appalling!  And 
now,  a  piece  of  driftwood  on  the  stream  of  Circum 
stance,  he  had  floated  to  an  island  of  security  and 


202  LOS   CERRITOS. 

peace,  bliss  and  communion,  with  Nature  to  mur 
mur  banns  and  blessings — and  he  must  touch  and 
drift  on !  As  yet  no  desire  had  entered  into  his 
love.  He  had  outgrown  the  indiscriminate  and 
omnipresent  sensuality  of  youth,  and  beautiful 
and  half  clothed  as  the  girl  was,  her  kinship  to 
Nature  was  too  close  for  him  to  regard  her  by  the 
standard  of  other  women;  her  kinship  with  him 
so  absolute  that  passion  could  be  but  the  demand 
for  closer  spiritual  union — when  Nature  com 
manded  her  subtlest  interpretations.  The  feeling 
he  had  for  her  now  was  one  of  great  and  perfect 
friendship.  She  had  stolen  into  his  nature  com 
pleting  and  quickening.  She  had  put  her  ten 
fingers  in  rapid  succession  upon  every  note  of  his 
being  and  drawn  fullest  measure  of  sound  from 
each.  The  world  sang  to  him  once  more. 

Carmelita  sat  motionless,  her  head  on  her  hand. 
She  had  made  no  attempt  to  define  what  she  had 
felt  in  the  creek  yesterday.  Something  had  come, 
and  she  held  it  close  and  hid  its  face. 

"  Talk  to  me,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me  something  about 
yourself.  Who  were  your  father  and  mother? " 

"My  father  was  Joaquin  Murietta."     Carme- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  203 

lita's  pride  in  her  erratic  parent  had  not  declined 
with  ethical  advancement;  her  life  had  been  too 
solitary,  her  nature  was  too  romantic. 

"No?  I  had  no  idea  you  were  of  such  distin 
guished  birth.  And  your  mother  ? " 

She  told  Tiim  that  fair  mother's  history,  and  he 
listened  with  great  interest.  "  That  is  romantic !  " 
he  exclaimed  when  she  had  finished.  "  I  knew 
you  did  not  come  from  the  vegetable  garden. 
And  you — you  with  such  parentage,  you  are  out 
of  place  in  this  commonplace  existence.  Who 
will  you  marry,  I  wonder."  He  uttered  the  words 
idly.  He  did  not  picture  her  the  wife  of  any  man. 

CarmelJta  parted  her  lips.  The  air  seemed  to 
have  left  her  lungs.  "  I  never  marry,"  she  said 
coldly,  after  a  moment,  but  the  knuckles  of  her 
hand  bruised  her  cheek.  "Alway  I  live  like 
this.  The  padre  say  so,  and  I  know." 

Tremaine  set  his  teeth  suddenly,  and  she  rose 
and  leaned  against  the  pillar  by  her  box.  He 
gazed  at  her  for  a  moment  and  then  paid  her  a 
compliment  with  angry  vehemence. 

u  How  beautiful  you  are!  "  he  said.  "  I  cannot 
hell)  telling  you  that.  Do  you  know  that  in  the 


2O4  LOS   CERRITOS. 

world  I  come  from  I  have  never  seen  a  woman  so 
perfect  as  you?" 

She  turned  to  him  and  smiled,  the  warm  blood 
rushing  to  her  face  and  throat.  Then,  with  a  sud 
den  impulse  of  coquetry,  the  first  of  her  life,  she 
swept  her  hair  from  its  braids  and  shook  the  silky 
web  about  her.  It  clung  to  her  like  inky  mist, 
and  through  it  peered  her  startled  face  with  its 
parted  lips  and  appealing  eyes.  The  action  was 
exquisite,  the  first  tribute  of  a  woman  to  the  man 
who  had  stirred  her  heart  from  the  calm  of  its 
birth,  and  Tremaine's  pulses  leaped  and  fought 
against  their  prisoning  walls.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  his  eyes  flashed  their  answer  to  the  ap 
peal  of  hers.  Oh !  but  the  hour  and  the  woman 
were  witching.  The  night  pulsed  about  them! 
The  very  air  was  drugged  with  the  perfume  of  the 
spring  flowers,  the  heavy  scent  of  locust  blossom's. 

He  folded  his  arms  and  set  his  shoulders  against 
the  pillar  behind  him. 

"  Your  hair  is  very  beautiful,"  he  said  coldly. 
"  Were  I  an  artist  I  should  paint  you  so."  And 
he  stood  regarding  her  calmly  from  beneath  his 
eyes'  concealing  lids.  He  needed  no  brush  to  com- 


LOS  CERRITOS.  2O5 

memorate  the  scene:  the  great  silent  expanse, 
rolling  away  like  a  sea  of  reflected  silver  until  it 
met  and  broke  against  the  far-off  mountains ;  the 
ruinous  old  Mission,  grand  in  its  simple  resigna 
tion  to  poverty  and  neglect ;  the  beautiful  woman, 
with  her  eager  passionate  face  and  wonderful 
glory  of  hair;  it  was  etched  into  his  brain. 

She  turned  from  him  and  began  braiding  her 
hair,  her  flesh  chilled,  as  if  the  night  wind  were 
the  breath  of  mid-winter.  As  she  thrust  the 
strands  back  and  forth  with  awkward  fingers  her 
downcast  eyes  caught  sudden  view  of  her  bare 
legs.  Blushing  a  hot  painful  red  she  shrank  back 
into  the  shadow  of  the  pillar,  yet  feeling  that 
there  was  no  night  which  would  cover  her  naked 
ness  from  this  man's  gaze.  Her  pulse  throbbed 
against  her  swelling  throat  and  she  trembled  from 
head  to  foot  with  shame.  What  must  he  think 
of  her  ?  The  women  he  knew  did  not  dress  like 
that.  Why,  why,  had  she  not  thought  of  this  be 
fore?  And  for  a  moment  a  demon  within  her 
raved  and  bit  and  cursed  the  fate  which  had 
wrought  her  ignorance. 

Her  instinct  was  to  fly  into  the  Mission  and 


206  LOS   CERRITOS. 

bolt  herself  in  a  cell  until  he  should  have  gone; 
but  pride,  blind  but  peremptory,  forbade  her  to 
provoke  misinterpretation.  She  bit  her  lips  and 
in  a  moment  the  muscles  of  her  throat  relaxed. 

"Buenas  noches,"  she  said,  shaking  her  hair 
about  her.  "No  come  with  me.  I  go  to  see  the 
senora,"  and  she  walked  down  the  road  with  head 
erect  and  burning  face.  Tremaine  did  not  follow. 
He  was  puzzled,  but  glad  to  be  alone. 

She  went  straight  to  Lindavista,  but  when  she 
reached  Geraldine's  door  it  was  some  time  before 
it  was  opened.  Then  Carmelita  gave  a  little  cry 
of  horror,  forgetting  her  own  trouble. 

" Geraldinita!  "  she  cried,  "what  is  the  matter? 
You  are  ill,  no?  You  are  white  like  the  virgin  in 
the  Mission." 

"  Come  in,"  said  Geraldine,  grasping  her  hand 
eagerly.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  are  here.  Stay  with 
me  to-night." 

"  Si,  I  stay.     But  why  you  are  so  pale  ? " 

"  I  wish  to  God  I  were  paler,"  exclaimed  the 
woman  passionately.  She  pushed  the  girl  into  a 
chair,  sitting  by  her.  "What  brought  you?  Is 
there  any  more  trouble? " 


LOS   CERRTTOS.  2O/ 

"  Geraldina,  I  go  to  ask  you  to  give  me  some 
thing,  and  you  no  will  mind,  no?  for  I  never  ask 
for  nothing  before." 

"Ask  for  what  you  want,  my  dear  girl.  You 
are  welcome  to  all  I  have." 

"  I  no  want  much.  Only  one  old  skirt— long— 
that  you  no  wear  any  more." 

"  But  my  child,  what  will  you  do  with  a  train? " 

"  I  no  want  a  train,  only  a  dress  to  cover  my 
legs— all  roun!" 

Geraldine  was  too  wise  to  ask  questions,  and 
she  went  into  the  next  room,  returning  in  a  mo 
ment  with  a  black  skirt. 

"  Take  this,"  she  said.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  get 
rid  of  it.  It  never  suited  me." 

"  But  it  is  too  good,  Geraldina.  You  no  have 
nothing  more  old?" 

"  I  shall  never  wear  this  again  and  it  is  two 
years  old  at  least.  Here,  put  it  on."  She  threw 
it  over  the  girl's  head  and  fastened  the  belt. 

Carmelita  walked  down  the  room,  surveying 
herself  over  each  shoulder  and  down  the  front. 
Her  self-respect  was  restored,  and  she  felt  digni 
fied  and  worthy  to  be  the  daughter  of  her  mother. 


208  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  They  no  can  see  my  legs  now,"  she  exclaimed 
triumphantly.  "  I  no  look  indecente  any  more." 

"  You  never  looked  indecent,"  said  Geraldine 
indignantly.  "  Who  has  said  such  a  thing  to  you  ? " 

"  No  one  say  to  me—  "  and  then  she  threw 
her  arms  about  Geraldine  and  broke  into  wild, 
convulsive  weeping.  Geraldine  drew  her  down  on 
to  the  divan,  and  putting  her  head  on  the  girl's 
shoulder,  wept  also.  Her  grief  was  less  violent 
but  it  was  more  hopeless,  for  youth  with  its  ignor 
ance  of  life  was  behind  her. 

"  I  no  know  si  I  am  happy  or  sorry,"  sobbed 
Carmelita. 

But  the  woman  had  no  such  doubt. 


LOS  CERRITOS,  2OQ 


VII. 

ALEXANDER  TREMAINE. 

"  I  HAD  almost  forgotten,"  said  Geraldine  the 
next  morning.  "  I  have  twenty  dollars  for  you." 

"What!" 

"  It  came  yesterday.  It  is  a  greenback,  but  you 
must  have  gold  or  you  would  never  realize  its 
value."  And  she  threw  back  the  heavy  stuffs  of 
the  divan  and  took  from  a  drawer  a  heavy  piece 
of  gold,  new  and  bright. 

The  girl  was  unf eignedly  delighted.  "  I  go  to 
the  Aguitas  to-day,"  she  cried,  "and  buy  some 
closes  for  the  children  and  plenty  beans  and  flour. 
Geraldina,  I  love  you." 

Geraldine  put  her  arm  about  the  girl's  shoul 
ders.  "  You  have  not  yet  told  me  your  trouble," 
she  said.  "  Some  day  perhaps  you  w^ill.  Remem 
ber  that  I  am  your  friend  and  that  I  love  you." 

Carmelita  turned  away  her  head  to  hide  the 
blood  that  had  jumped  to  her  face.  "  I  no  know, 

Geraldina.     I  no  think  I  ever  tell." 
14 


2IO  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  What  can  it  be? "  thought  Geraldine. 

That  afternoon  Carmelita  went  with  her  gold  to 
the  Aguitas.  This  landmark  of  civilization  was 
a  good  four  miles  from  her  home,  but  she  walked 
the  distance  swiftly  and  reached  the  place  before 
dark.  The  porch  in  front  of  the  "hotel"  was 
crowded  with  excited  groups  discussing  the  com 
ing  of  the  sheriffs  on  the  morrow;  but  even  the 
young  men  were  too  absorbed  to  notice  her,  and 
she  slipped  into  the  store  and  made  her  purchases. 
It  was  a  question  of  deep  moment,  the  spending 
of  those  twenty  dollars,  and  when  it  was  finally 
settled,  and  the  man  had  been  instructed  to  give 
the  heavier  things  to  Espinoza  when  he  should 
call,  the  porch  was  deserted  and  night  had  come. 

She  put  her  bundle  under  her  arm  and  was 
about  to  strike  across  the  road,  thankful  that  she 
would  go  unseen,  when  she  heard  the  sound  of 
voices  in  a  large  room  adjoining  the  store.  Even 
this  fragment  of  the  world  appealed  to  her  curi 
osity  at  times  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  she 
stepped  to  the  window  and  peered  within.  For 
many  moments  she  stood  motionless,  too  fasci 
nated  to  move. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  211 

The  large  room  was  bare  and  uncarpeted,  but 
huge  logs  crackled  hospitality  in  the  open  fire 
place,  reddening  the  ugly  peeling  walls  with  their 
leaping  glare.  In  the  centre  of  the  room,  gath 
ered  close  about  a  table,  were  four  men,  bearded, 
dark,  desperate  looking,  their  sombreros  pulled 
low  over  watchful  eyes,  their  hands  iilled  with 
shuffling  cards,  small  heaps  of  gold  glittering  be 
side  them.  Silent,  calm  as  sphinxes,  they  saw 
their  piles  augment  or  disappear,  while  the  men 
who  to-morrow  might  be  without  a  roof  to  their 
heads,  crowded  about  with  greedy  gaze  and  mut 
tered  wagers.  In  a  corner  a  man  was  making  a 
captured  bat  smoke  a  cigarette,  and  by  the  hearth 
crouched  the  old  Indian  holding  his  ghoulish 
hands  to  the  flames. 

"  Come,"  said  a  voice  behind  Carmelita's  shoul 
der.  "  Do  not  look  any  more.  There  may  be  a 
fight  any  moment." 

Carmelita  started,  almost  dropping  her  bundle, 
but  Tremaine  took  it  from  her.  "  I  will  go  home 
with  you,"  he  said.  "  It  is  too  late  for  you  to  be 
on  this  part  of  the  ranch  alone." 

They  walked  for  some  distance  in  silence.    The 


212  LOS   CERRITOS. 

moon  was  not  up  yet  and  the  road  had  little  light, 
but  Carmelita  felt  as  if  the  ground  had  turned 
buoyant  as  air,  and  vague  disturbance  fled. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  this,"  thought  Tremaine, 
"  but  it  is  for  the  last  time."  "  Why  have  you  put 
on  that  long  dress  ? "  he  demanded  abruptly.  "  I 
like  the  short  one  much  better.  It  suits  you,  and 
that  long  shapeless  thing  does  not." 

"  I  like,"  said  Carmelita  briefly.  "And  it  is  very 
strange  si  you  no  like,  for  you  no  can  be  use  to  the 
short  skirt  where  you  live  before." 

"  I  like  what  I  am  not  used  to.  You  were  not 
afraid  to  take  this  walk  alone? "  he  added  quickly. 

"  I  no  think ;  I  want  so  much  to  get  the  things ; 
but  I  am  glad  you  come." 

"What  things?" 

"  I  find  an  old  certificate,  and  the  senora  send 
to  the  city  and  sell  for  me.  She  give  to  me  las 
night  one  big  gold  piece,  and  I  go  to  the  Aguitas 
to  buy  the  closes  for  the  childrens,  and  many 
other  things  that  no  would  interest  you,  senor." 

"And  what  did  you  get  for  yourself? " 

"  Nothing,  for  I  no  want.  The  senora  she  give 
to  me  this  dress." 


LOS   CERRITOS. 

"When?"  asked  Tremaine  quickly. 

She  hesitated.     "  Las  night." 

A  flash  of  inspiration  came  to  Tremaine  and  for 
a  moment  he  saw  the  objects  about  him  less  dis 
tinctly.  "  She  loves  me!  "  he  thought  exultingly, 
and  he  repeated  the  words  many  times.  He  put 
out  his  arms  with  a  swift  motion.  There  was  an 
ache  in  the  muscles  and  he  held  them  so  rigidly 
that  they  were  cramped.  Then  he  dropped  them 
suddenly.  She  was  a  little  ahead  and  saw  noth 
ing.  If  she  had  she  would  have  sprung  to  him 
as  naturally  as  a  forest  queen  springs  to  its  mate. 

"  Talk  to  me,"  he  said.  "  Say  something.  I  like 
to  hear  your  fancies.  Tell  me  about  your  birds 
and  flowers." 

"  I  tell  you  one  thing  I  have  think  for  a  long 
time,  ever  since  the  senora  tell  me  the  history," 
she  answered,  willing  to  please  him,  and  finding 
the  subject  a  congenial  one.  "  You  have  hear  of 
Semiramis,  no?  She  was  a  great  queen  before — 
Babylon  I  think." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard." 

u  You  remember  she  have  the  hanging  gardens 
on  her  palace,  no?  Well,  this  is  what  I  think. 


214  LOS   CERRITOS. 

Nature  she  have  the  palace  in  the  earth — the 
flowers  they  describe  to  me,  and  the  house  of 
Semiramis  no  can  compare.  You  no  may  believe, 
but  I  do,  and  I  believe  it  is  right  under  us,  and 
California  is  the  hanging  garden  de  her." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder!  " 

"And  sometimes  in  the  night  when  it  is  warm 
and  the  air  so  sweet  I  no  can  bear  to  sleep  inside, 
I  see  Tier.  She  is  tall  like  the  big  oaks,  but  she 
shine  like  a  star  through  the  fine  mist — and  she 
sweep  her  train  over  her  hills,  and  the  wild  flow 
ers  kiss  her  feet  and  the  air  whisper  with  a  sound 
I  never  hear  any  other  time  cept  when  I  kneel 
and  hold  my  ear  one  foot  from  the  groun.  You 
ever  hear  that  sound,  senor  ?  It  no  is  roar,  or 
buzz,  or  hum,  but  all  three  and  low.  I  often  lis 
ten,  for  when  you  stand  high  you  no  hear." 

"  I  have  heard  it  when  I  have  been  lying  alone 
in  the  woods  on  a  summer's  day.  But  go  on. 
What  are  those  frogs  talking  about? " 

"Listen!  you  no  can  tell?  I  know.  They  sing 
the  funeral  mass  for  the  dead  birds." 

"  Never  mind  any  more,"  said  Tremaine  harshly, 
"  there  is  your  home."  He  threw  the  bundle  to 


LOS   CERRITOS.  215 

the  ground.     "  Give  me  your  hands,"  he  said,  "  I 
have  something  to  say  to  you." 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly  and  then  gave 
him  both  warm  quivering  hands.  He  crushed 
them  roughly  against  his  breast  and  brought  his 
flushed  face  close  to  her  paling  one.  His  self-con 
trol  was  leaving  him  and  his  knees  shook  sud 
denly.  The  words  came  with  difficulty,  but  he 
said  them. 

"  Carmelita!  I  am  Alexander  Tremaine." 
And  he  dropped  her  hands  and  went  down  the 
road,  and  out  of  her  sight. 


2l6  LOS  CERRITOS. 


VIII. 

AT  THE   FOOT   OF   THE   CTCOSS. 

THE  padre  was  sitting  by  his  table,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands,  when  he  heard  the  outer  door 
open  and  a  woman's  footsteps  rushing  toward  his 
study.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  the  cold  drops  start 
ing  on  his  forehead,  then  sank  back  with  a  quick 
sigh  of  relief.  It  was  Carmelita. 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  unseeingly, 
then  rose  suddenly  and  put  out  his  hand. 

"  My  child,  what  is  it? "  he  asked.  "  What  has 
happened  to  you? " 

She  pressed  her  hands  about  her  throat  as  if 
she  would  speak,  then  threw  herself  headlong  to 
the  floor  and  lay  on  her  face  at  his  feet.  She 
made  no  sound,  but  she  shook  like  a  wounded 
panther  that  has  crawled  to  a  familiar  spot  to  die. 

The  padre  sat  down  and  folded  his  arms.  He 
knew  that  the  time  had  not  come  to  speak.  He 
divined  the  cause  of  her  agony.  The  day  he  had 


LOS   CERRITOS.  217 

turned  his  eyes  to  the  organ  platform  and  seen 
the  commanding  head  of  the  stranger  he  had  felt 
a  prophetic  sense  of  its  coming,  and  since,  he  had 
passed  them  twice.  He  had  intended  to  seek 
Tremaine  and  ask  him  to  go  before  any  harm 
should  be  done.  And  now  it  was  too  late.  While 
man  hesitates  love  flies  with  lightning  in  his 
wings,  and  strikes. 

Once,  as  he  sat  watching  her  mortal  woe,  a 
question  almost  unconsciously  drifted  through  his 
mind.  Which  would  be  worse :  to  marry  an  igno 
rant  Mexican  and  spend  her  life  in  a  dirty  hovel 
with  a  swarm  of  half -naked  children  and  not  a 
memory  of  youth,  or  to  have  known  the  splendid 
agony  of  love  and  loss  and  despair  ?  He  thrust 
the  question  aside  with  a  shudder.  He  knew  the 
bitterness  of  memories. 

The  girl's  quivering  body  grew  quiet  and  she 
lay  motionless  for  a  few  moments,  then  rose  to 
her  feet  and  stood  looking  down  on  him  with 
sullen  demand. 

He  rose  also.  "Do  not  speak,"  he  said,  "I 
know — I  know." 

He  walked  rapidly  up  and  down  the  room,  striv- 


2l8  LOS    CERRITOS. 

ing  to  think  of  some  comfort  to  give  her;  but  he 
knew  the  futility  of  words  to  heal  such  wounds. 
Suddenly  his  eyes  fell  on  a  black  curtain  which 
hung  before  a  recess  in  the  wall,  and  with  a  rapid 
stride  he  stood  before  it.  He  turned  his  eyes  to 
hers  for  one  expressive  second,  then  flung  the  cur 
tain  aside  and  Carmelita  made  the  quick  involun 
tary  sign  of  the  cross.  In  the  recess  was  an  altar 
with  crucifix  and  lighted  candles.  The  priest 
raised  his  eyes  and  his  hand,  pointing  upward, 
then,  his  eyes  meeting  hers  again,  he  lowered  his 
arm  slowly  and  pointed  to  the  steps  of  the  altar. 
Carmelita  crossed  the  room  and  fell  on  her  knees, 
pressing  her  arms  about  the  altar.  Then  the 
priest  went  out  and  left  her  alone. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  219 


IX. 

THEEE   CITIZENS   OF   CEEEITOS. 

"  WE'VE  got  two  pistols  apiece,  sir,"  said  the 
sheriff.  "  I  hope  you're  fixed." 

"Yes,"  said  Tremaine.  "But  I  don't  wish  any 
dispossessing  done  to-day.  We  will  talk  to  the 
men  and  see  if  they  have  any  suggestions  to 
make.  Hawkins  will  explain." 

He  sprang  on  his  horse,  the  sheriffs  and  Haw 
kins  got  into  the  wagon,  and  they  went  down  the 
road  that  led  through  the  ranch.  The  sheriff  and 
deputies  had  arrived  at  twelve  o'clock  the  night 
before,  and  no  plans  had  been  made. 

"  It's  a  stroke  of  luck  you  come  when  you  did," 
said  Hawkins,  "the  squatters  was  just  beginnin' 
to  ketch  on  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Tremaine  was 
himself.  I  persuaded  him  to  go  by  the  genteel 
name  of  Smith  fur  a  while,  fur  he  would  ride  all 
over  the  ranch,  and  if  they  had  knowed  who  he 
was  his  life  wouldn't  have  been  worth  a  damn." 

The  sheriff  eyed  Tremaine.    "  He's  good'n  big. 


22O  LOS   CERRITOS. 

and  he  don't  look  like  he'd  take  water  too  easy. 
Guess  they  wouldn't  enjoy  a  tussle  with  him. 
Hanged  if  I  would.  But  he  looks  like  he  knowed 
it  was  a  serious  business." 

"  Yes,  he  looks  a  deal  more  serious  than  when 
he  come.  I  guess  he's  looked  into  things  a  bit, 
but  he's  a  man  as  don't  say  much."  He  raised  his 
voice.  "  Castro's  house  is  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hill,  sir,"  he  called  to  Tremaine.  "  Better  have  yer 
pistol  ready.  He's  the  wust  o'  the  lot." 

Tremaine  broke  from  his  thoughts  with  a  start 
of  relief  and  spurred  his  horse  to  the  top  of  the 
hill.  A  neat  farm,  fenced  with  branches,  lay  below. 
Smoke  was  curling  from  the  chimney  and  an  old 
woman  sat  in  the  door  way.  The  scene  was  peace 
ful,  and  signs  of  moving  there  were  none.  The 
birds  twittering  in  the  trees  seemed  no  more  con 
fidently  established  in  their  nests.  Castro's  par 
ents  were  too  old  to  reason.  He  told  them  they 
were  to  stay,  and  they  gave  no  thought  to  exile. 

"Well,  of  all  the  gall!"  exclaimed  the  sheriff. 
"  But  that's  just  like  Castro." 

They  drove  through  the  gate  and  the  old  woman 
pushed  her  ragged  white  hair  out  of  her  eyes  and 


LOS   CERRITOS.  221 

grinned  a  yellow  and  solitary  tooth  into  view, 
while  with  one  skinny  hand  she  scratched  her 
mahogany  cheek.  A  facetious  traveller,  seeing 
her  once  at  the  Aguitas,  had  christened  her  Cleo 
patra  and  the  name  had  clung  to  her  ever  since. 
Not  that  the  squatters  had  ever  heard  of  the  dark 
and  limber  queen,  but  they  knew  that  a  joke  was 
intended  and  were  ready  to  keep  it  up.  The 
sheriff,  with  his  hand  on  his  hip  pocket,  jumped 
from  the  wagon  and  went  up  to  the  old  woman, 
followed  by  the  others.  Tremaine  rode  to  the 
porch,  but  did  not  dismount. 

"  Can  we  see  yer  son? "  asked  the  sheriff. 

Cleopatra  mumbled  something  and  pointed  over 
her  shoulder.  But  she  had  no  need  to  call  her 
son.  He  was  not  attending  to  his  vaquero  duties 
during  this  momentous  crisis,  and  as  he  heard 
the  sheriff's  voice  he  gave  a  hoarse  growl  and 
strode  to  the  door  like  an  angry  lion  from  its  lair. 
As  he  saw  Tremaine  his  jaws  began  to  work  and 
his  huge  nostrils  dilated.  But  Tremaine  gave  him 
a  long  gaze  from  beneath  his  drooping  lids  and  in 
a  moment  he  turned  uneasily  to  the  others  and 
blusteringly  demanded  what  they  wanted. 


222  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  We  want  to  talk  to  you  a  bit.'1 

"  I  no  got  nothing  to  say." 

"But  we  have  to  you,"  said  the  sheriff.  He 
rolled  a  quid  to  the  other  side  of  his  mouth  and 
seating  himself  on  the  window  sill  swung  his  leg 
as  an  accompaniment  to  his  words. 

"  Now  look  here,  Castro,  I  know  you  and  you 
know  me.  What  I've  got  to  say  you  kin  jest  be 
lieve,  you  bet.  If  you  want  to  stay  on  this  place 
you've  got  to  pay  rent  or  buy.  The  place  ain't 
yourn.  It's  Mister  Tremaine's.  The  law  has  give 
it  to  him — square,  square,  and  no  joke;  and  you've 
either  got  to  pay  or  git." 

"  The  law  be  damned,"  yelled  Castro,  "  I  no  leav 
ing  this  place  si  you  bring  the  army  with  you.  I 
die  by  the  door  first.  The  place  no  is  Serior  Tre 
maine's.  I  have  before  and  it  is  mine." 

"  That'll  do,  Castro.  Just  tone  down  that  voice 
of  yourn,  will  yer?  We're  none  of  us  deef.  Now, 
if  you've  made  up  your  mind  not  to  rent  or  buy, 
Mr.  Hawkins  tells  me  that  the  Sennor  Tremaine 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  give  yer  the  price  o' 
yer  crops ;  and  in  common  decency  you  ought  to 


LOS   CERRITOS.  223 

treat  him  as  well's  lie  treats  you  and  not  give  him 
no  more  trouble." 

"  Senor  Dios !  "  shouted  Castro,  "  I  lika  choke  his 
dirty  gold  down  his  throat.  I  no  want  his  moneys. 
I  want  my  land.  Now  go  to  hell."  And  he  strode 
into  the  house,  gnashing  his  teeth,  muttering  and 
growling. 

"  Well,"  said  the  sheriff,  sliding  from  the  win 
dow  seat  and  stamping  his  foot  into  his  boot. 
There's  only  fight  with  him,  that's  certain.  We'll 
try  somewheres  else.  Looks  as  if  there  was  goin' 
to  be  reel  gay  times." 

They  drove  down  the  road,  one  of  the  deputies 
throwing  his  legs  over  the  back  of  the  seat  and 
absently  toying  with  his  pistol,  and  in  a  short 
time  they  drew  up  before  another  hacienda.  Here, 
neatness  did  not  prevail  and  the  crop  was  uneven 
and  straggling,  as  if  the  hand  that  had  guided  the 
plough  had  felt  little  nerve  for  its  work.  Four 
or  five  ragged  children  were  playing  on  the  porch, 
and  at  the  sound  of  the  wheels  a  large  Mexican 
woman  waddled  to  the  door.  She  wore  a  solitary 
garment  of  calico,  and  acres  of  fat  quivered  serenely 
upon  other  acres,  as  she  walked. 


224  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  Scott!  What  a  fairy,"  observed  the  sheriff. 
"But  she  won't  cuss,  that's  one  comfort.  She 
couldn't  get  up  the  steam." 

The  woman  made  no  courtesy  as  the  men  ap 
proached  her.  She  looked  sullen  and  indifferent. 

"  Buenas  dias !  sennora,"  said  the  sheriff  heart 
ily.  "  Can  we  see  yer  husband? " 

"  He  feeda  the  pigs,"  said  the  woman.  "  Jose, 
go  calla  him,"  and  she  turned  her  back  and  re 
turned  to  the  stove. 

One  of  the  youngsters  disappeared  around  the 
corner  of  the  house,  and  in  a  moment  returned 
with  a  tall  man  dressed  in  overalls  and  a  flannel 
shirt.  His  mouth  was  set  under  his  heavy  beard, 
as  if  apprehension  threatened  to  master  him.  He 
gave  his  head  a  little  jerk,  then  stood  waiting  for 
the  men  to  speak. 

"  My  good  man,"  said  the  sheriff,  "  before  lettin' 
the  law  take  its  course,  Mister  Tremaine  wants  to 
know  if  yer  have  any  propositions  to  make.  If 
yer  want  to  rent,  the  terms  won't  be  very  hard, 
and  if  yer  want  to  buy,  yer  can  do  it  on  the 
instalment  plan." 

The  man  folded  Ms  arms.  "  I  no  got  one  cents," 


LOS  CERRITOS.  22$ 

he  said.  "  I  got  two  pigs.  When  I  killing  them, 
si  I  no  can  sell  my  horse,  the  childrens  starve.  I 
no  can  do  it  nothing  more." 

"Well,  you  be  in  a  bad  way,"  assented  the 
sheriff.  "  But  the  sennor  will  buy  yer  crops." 

The  man  laughed.  "Looka  them,"  he  said. 
"  How  much  they  worth?  Much  better  we  starve 
and  have  done." 

"Then  you  have  no  plans  to  sergest?"  said  the 
sheriff,  rising  from  the  box  on  which  he  had  so 
ciably  seated  himself. 

"How  the  poor  man  can  maka  the  plan?  The 
rich  man  do  it  that  and  the  poor  man  eata  the 
grass." 

"  Then  yer're  ready  to  go  without  trouble? " 

The  man  looked  at  his  children  and  the  blood 
blazed  to  his  face. 

"Oh!  whatte  I  can  do?"  he  cried.  "Si  you 
putting  me  out  I  mus  go!  It  no  is  use  to  fight. 
I  telling  them  that.  The  law  taking  from  us  our 
own  and  we  no  can  do  it  nothing.  Take  it !  Put 
ting  out  the  wife  and  childrens  but  I  no  can  stay 
to  see,"  and  he  fled  around  the  angle  of  his  house. 

"  Come,"  said  Tremaine  hurriedly.   "  Let  us  go." 
15 


226  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  I  hope  he's  not  goin'  to  be  soft  about  it,"  said 
the  sheriff  to  Hawkins  as  they  rode  off,  "  because 
he'd  do  no  good  if  he  was.  They're  a  lazy  lot, 
anyhow.  They  hav'n't  got  a  cent  left,  that's  cer 
tain,  but  they  might  jest  as  well  starve  on  the 
high-road  and  let  him  have  his  land.  What  a 
daisy  place  he  could  make  of  it !  " 

The  next  farm  in  their  progress  belonged  to  a 
"  white  squatter."  The  children  swarming  over 
the  porch  this  time  were  white-haired,  but  so  sun 
burnt  that  they  were  few  shades  fairer  than  their 
Mexican  brothers.  A  woman  was  sitting  in  the 
door  mending  a  child's  dress,  and  her  husband 
was  digging  in  the  field.  He  stood  up  and  watched 
the  approaching  visitors  with  a  scowl.  He  had 
been  a  good-natured  man,  but  the  hardships  and 
worry  of  the  last  year  had  turned  his  blood  to 
acid.  As  the  men  alighted  and  spoke  to  his  wife 
he  walked  forward  and  stood  before  them. 

"What  d'yer  want?"  he  demanded  savagely, 
for  he  suspected  their  errand. 

The  man  of  law  said,  with  a  friendly  smile, 
"  I'm  only  the  sheriff — don't  go  and  get  skeered, 


LOS   CERRITOS.  22/ 

though,"  he  added,  as  the  man  paled  under  his 
weather-beaten  skin.  "We're  willin'  to  make 
terms  if  you've  got  anything  ter  sergest." 

k>  I  ain't  got  nothiri'  ter  suggest,"  growled  the 
man,  k!  and  I  ain't  goin'  ter  leave."  But  his  pitia 
ble  attempt  at  bravado  did  not  deceive  even  his 
wife,  and  she  put  the  rag  she  was  mending  to  her 
eyes  and  began  to  cry  silently. 

"  But  I'm  afraid  yer'll  have  ter,"  said  the  sheriff, 
putting  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  regarding 
the  wretched  man  with  a  bland  smile.  "  Law  is 
law,  yer  know,  and  if  yer  don't  pay  or  go,  we'll 
be  under  the  painful  necessity  of  puttin'  y'out 
'bout  this  time  to-morrow.  I'm  sorry,  but  them's 
my  orders,  and  I'm  only  a  servant  of  the  law." 

"  Come  to-morrow,"  said  the  man  with  inad vert- 
ant  significance. 

"Aha!"  thought  the  sheriff.  "Something's  in 
the  wind."  But  he  made.no  comment.  "Do  you 
all  feel  alike  on  this  question — that  yer  won't 
budge  till  yer're  fired? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man  sullenly,  "  that's  the  way 
we  feel.  The  land's  ourn,  not  that  thief  Tre- 
maine's.  Oh,  that's  him,  is  it.  Well,  let  him  be 


228  LOS  CERRITOS. 

damned.  I  fur  one  am  willin'  he  should  hear  my 
opinion  of  'im.  If  he  takes  the  land  what's  mine 
in  spite  of  the  law,  he's  a  thief,  nothin'  mor'n  less. 
You  kin  arrest  me  if  yer  like.  No  thin'  could  be 
wuss  than  'tis  now." 

"  Oh,  we  won't  arrest  yer;  for  bein'  wusted,  it's 
natral  you  should  feed  a  little  riled,  and  words 
don't  do  no  harm.  It's  only  when  shots  is  fired 
that  yer  run  risks.  Sometimes  bullets  hit  too 
hard  and  then  yer're  strung  up.  But  yer're  too 
hard  on  Mister  Tremaine.  He  intends  to  give  yer 
the  price  o'  yer  crops." 

Tremaine  writhed  on  his  saddle  for  the  third 
time  that  day.  Every  time  the  sheriff  made  that 
offer  he  felt  as  mean  and  paltry  as  if  a  starving 
woman  had  begged  of  him  in  the  street  and  he 
had  thrown  her  a  nickel. 

The  man  laughed  aloud.  "  He'd  better  keep  it," 
he  said  with  a  sneer.  "  He  might  want  it  to  buy 
one  of  them  silk  shirts  with,  he's  got  on.  We 
don't  need  it.  The  lawyer  didn't  want  no  money 
fur  what  he  didn't  do!  " 

Tremaine  spurred  his  horse  and  galloped  down 
the  road,  the  men  hurrying  after  him. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  22Q 

"  He's  a  fool,  that  man,"  exclaimed  the  sheriff, 
as  he  lashed  his  horse.  "  He  ain't  got  no  right  to 
be  one  minute  alone  on  this  ranch.  They'd  as 
soon  kill  'im  as  look  at  'im." 


230  LOS   CERRITOS. 


X. 

A  BKOKEN   MEDITATION. 

LATE  that  night  Tremaine  was  walking  slowly 
up  and  down  before  the  Aguitas  revolving  a  prob 
lem  that  had  temporarily  driven  even  Carmelita 
from  his  mind.  What  should  he  do  in  regard  to 
these  squatters?  If  he  turned  them  out  to  starve 
on  the  highway  he  would  feel  no  better  than  any 
common  murderer  who  cut  a  man's  throat  for  the 
sake  of  his  pocket  book.  The  law  was  on  his  side, 
but  he  was  almost  glad  that  at  last  he  felt  it  a 
duty  to  set  some  law  at  defiance.  And  yet  he  was 
not  prepared  to  hand  over  his  land  bodily  to  these 
men.  He  was  a  generous  man,  but  his  business 
faculty  had  been  carefully  trained  by  a  close  and 
long-headed  New  England  father.  And  would  he 
do  them  any  material  good?  That  was  another 
question.  An  unfortunate  experience  had  made 
him  sceptical.  He  regarded  Henry  George  as  the 
most  enlightened  of  political  economists,  but  even 


LOS   CERRITOS.  231 

his  theories  would  be  apt  to  warp  if  the  applica 
tion  was  too  premature.  In  ultimate  equality  he 
had  not  a  grain  of  belief:  so  long  as  human  nature 
retained  its  primitive  ingredients,  the  clever 
or  the  lucky  man  would  always  get  to  the  top. 
]N"or  was  it  desirable.  In  that  heaven  of  the  fam 
ished  socialist,  with  its  stunting  perfection  and 
chloroforming  monotony,  no  man  with  brains  or 
passion  would  wish  to  exist.  It  read  well,  but  the 
application  would  be  deadly.  For  the  small  and 
easy  ambitions  that  wTere  left,  no  man  would  care 
to  compete,  and  the  most  pungent  quality  of  life- 
variety — would  be  gone.  Nevertheless  he  had  it 
in  his  mind  to  give  these  squatters  their  farms  if 
only  by  way  of  experiment.  It  would  be  interest 
ing  to  watch  the  outcome.  He  was  inclined  to 
provide  for  the  unfortunates  in  some  way,  and 
perhaps  to  give  them  their  farms  was  the  easiest 
solution  of  the  matter. 

He  felt  a  strange  sensation — as  if  an  eagle  had 
rushed  by  him,  tearing  his  hair  as  she  passed; 
and  then  he  knew  that  a  bullet  had  gone  through 
his  hat.  He  stepped  back  onto  the  porch  of  the 
Aguitas,  and  standing  behind  a  pillar,  cocked  his 


232  LOS   CERRITOS. 

pistol.  The  moon  was  up  and  the  night  was  still. 
For  a  half -hour  he  waited  for  the  man  to  betray 
himself,  but  the  half-hour  passed  and  there  was 
no  sound  but  the  music  of  the  frogs. 

"  It's  that  fiend,  Castro,"  he  thought.  "  I  should 
enjoy  getting  a  shot  at  him." 

Another  half -hour  passed  and  then  he  stepped 
into  his  room  and  closed  the  door.  "  Whoever  it 
is  I'll  hear  from  him  again,"  he  thought.  "And 
it's  time  to  go  to  bed;  I  must  be  up  early  to-mor 
row."  He  moved  about  the  room,  feeling  for  a 
candle,  then  stopped  short  and  listened.  There 
was  a  crackling  of  paper  under  his  door,  followed 
by  a  sound  of  running  feet.  Before  he  could 
reach  the  porch  a  man  was  galloping  down  the 
road.  He  fired  a  shot  after  the  burly  figure,  but  a 
loud  laugh  was  the  only  answer,  and  he  opened 
the  missive  directed  to  him  and  read  it  by  the 
moon's  vivid  Hght.  From  an  almost  unintelligi 
ble  jargon  of  Spanish  and  English  he  gathered 
that  if  he  did  not  take  the  stage  the  next  morning 
he  would  swing  from  the  highest  tree  on  the  Cer- 
ritos  ranch  before  night.  The  rest  of  the  page 


LOS   CERRITOS.  233 

was  given  over  to  a  choice  assortment  of  vitupera 
tive  epithets,  and  was  signed  with  the  names  of 
sixty  squatters.  Tremaine  flung  the  note  into  the 
dust  of  the  road  and  returned  to  the  house. 


234  LOS   CERRITOS. 


XL 

IN  VASQUEZ'   CANTON. 

THE  next  morning  when  Tremaine  spoke  of  his 
adventure,  the  sheriff  begged  him  to  return  to 
San  Francisco.  "  They'll  kill  yer  sure's  fate,"  he 
said,  "  and  you  can't  do  no  good  by  stayin'.  We 
kin  do  the  business  better  without  yer." 

"  I  shall  not  go,"  said  Tremaine.  "  Do  you  sup 
pose  I  am  going  to  let  the  brutes  run  me  off  the 
ranch?  Besides  the  satisfaction  I  shall  have  in 
seeing  the  thing  through,  I  have  private  reasons 
for  wishing  to  remain  until  the  squatters  are  ac 
tually  dispossessed." 

"Well,  you  can't  say  I  havn't  warned  yer. 
But  I'll  betcher  twenty  dollars  to  two  bits  I  ship 
a  corpse  back  to  Frisco." 

Tremaine  laughed  and  rode  out  of  the  Aguitas 
yard.  As  he  turned  the  corner  of  the  building  he 
came  face  to  face  with  Espinoza,  who  had  evi 
dently  been  lying  in  wait  for  him.  The  man 


LOS   CERRITOS.  235 

glanced  hurriedly  around,  then  slipped  a  note  into 
Tremaine's  hand."  "From  Carmelita,"  he  said 
nervously.  "No  say  nothing  for  the  love  of 
heaven,  senor." 

"  No ;  have  no  fear;  I  will  not  betray  you.  And 
I  may  as  well  tell  you  now,  you  are  to  keep  your 
land — your  hacienda." 

Before  the  bewildered  man  could  reply,  Tre- 
maine  had  spurred  his  horse  and  was  galloping 
down  the  road.  He  did  not  draw  rein  until  he 
reached  a  wood  near  the  Mission.  Then  he  tore 
open  the  note  with  the  impatience  born  of  delay. 

"  Oh,  senor,  go!  go!  "  it  ran.  "  They  kill  you  si 
you  stay.  Castro  he  swear  and  las  night  they 
have  the  meeting  and  they  all  are  very  mad  and 
say  they  shoot  you  si  you  come  near  the  housses. 
And  I— I — senor,  I  mus  tell  you  si  you  hate  me. 
Before  you  come  I  jump  on  the  table  in  Castro's 
field  one  night  and  I  do  it  all  I  can  to  make  them 
hate  you ;  I  make  them  wild  by  what  I  say  and  I 
beg  them  to  Mil  you,  senor,  and  they  go  crasy 
when  I  speke  and  shout  they  will.  And  now  they 
go  to  do  it  and  it  is  my  faul!  Castro  say  he  and 


236  LOS   CERRITOS. 

plenty  mens  write  and  tell  you  si  you  no  go  they 
hang  you  to  the  tree.  They  want  to  fright  you  so 
you  go  with  the  sheriffs  and  no  make  them  shoot 
and  be  hang  up.  I  know  you  no  go  for  them,  but 
I  ask  you  go,  senor.  I  write  this  on  my  knees  and 
I  beg  you  go  and  no  be  kill.  And  I  think  si  I  ask 
that  one  thing  you  do  it. 

"  CAKMELITA." 

Tremaine  quickly  folded  the  brown  paper  mis 
sive  as  the  sheriffs  came  rattling  down  the  road. 
He  could  not  grant  her  prayer,  but  he  wished  that 
a  continent  was  between  them. 

The  hacienda  they  had  planned  to  attack  first 
belonged  to  a  Mexican  named  Lopez,  and  they 
had  sent  him  warning  the  night  before.  As  Tre 
maine,  who  was  riding  some  distance  ahead  of  the 
wagon  in  spite  of  the  warning  calls  of  the  sheriff, 
emerged  from  the  grove  of  trees  before  the  man's 
farm,  he  saw  some  fifty  or  sixty  men  standing  in 
a  row  before  the  door.  As  he  approached  them 
each  raised  his  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  put  his 
finger  to  the  trigger.  Tremaine  set  his  teeth,  but 
the  danger  gave  him  the  first  sense  of  stimulation 


LOS  CERRITOS.  237 

he  had  felt  that  morning.  He  was  not  excited, 
but  he  was  in  a  mood  to  sullenly  pit  with  fate 
itself  and  ask  no  quarter.  He  raised  the  bridle  of 
his  mustang  and  dashing  down  the  path,  sprang 
to  the  ground  and  had  flung  a  man  aside  and  en 
tered  the  house  before  the  squatters  realized 
whether  he  was  a  man  or  an  apparition.  He  seized 
a  chair  and  threw  it  out  of  the  window,  and  then 
the  whole  body  of  them  surged  into  the  room  and 
surrounded  him  with  furious  curses  and  brandish 
ing  fists.  He  paid  no  attention,  but  flung  a  mat 
tress  after  the  bed,  and  at  the  same  moment  the 
wagon  drove  up. 

"God!"  cried  the  sheriff.  "The  man's  clean 
mad,"  and  leaping  from  the  wagon  he  rushed  into 
the  house,  fingering  his  revolver  and  followed  by 
the  others.  The  squatters,  poor  wretches,  were 
intimidated  by  the  detenu inat ion  and  contempt 
of  Tremaine  and  his  men,  and  stood  back  like 
whipped  curs.  The  sheriff  saw  his  advantage. 

"  Now  look  yere,"  he  said,  throwing  a  sack  of 
beans  into  the  open,  then  turning  to  the  men  with 
his  knuckles  on  his  hips.  "You  see  we  ain't 
afraid,  don't  yer,  and  yer  can't  do  nothin'?  If  yer 


238  LOS   CERRITOS. 

kill  us  there  is  plenty  more  where  we  come  from, 
n  nd  rope  enough  to  swing  the  whole  damned  lot 
o'  yer.  If  yer  kill  Mr.  Tremaine  he's  got  a  wife 
who'll  fight  for  the  property  after  'im.  He's  got 
money  and  law  behind  'im  and  you  ain't  got 
nothin'.  So  jest  clear  out  and  we'll  do  what  we 
come  for.  What's  more,  the  first  man  as  raises  his 
gun  drops.  Now  git." 

The  men  sullenly  withdrew,  and  one  of  the  de 
puties  was  told  to  watch  them  while  the  others 
carried  out  the  household  goods  and  laid  them  on 
the  ground.  The  men,  thoroughly  cowed,  made 
no  further  attempt  to  resist,  and  \vlien  the  work 
was  done  Tremaine  and  his  men  departed  un 
molested.  They  dispossessed  two  other  families, 
with  no  disturbance  beyond  the  crying  and  male 
dictions  of  the  women,  and  then  Tremaine  an 
nounced  his  intention  of  leaving  his  comrades  to 
finish  the  work  by  themselves. 

"There  will  be  no  further  trouble,"  he  said, 
"  and  I'm  sick  of  the  business." 

"  Well,  I'm  doggoned !  "  exclaimed  the  sheriff. 
"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  yer  goin'  to 
meander  around  this  ranch  by  yerself  ?  If  they 


LOS   CERRITOS.  239 

git  a  chance  at  yer  with  no  one  to  tell  the  tale 
they'll  riddle  yer,  sure  pop." 

"  They'll  do  no  more  to-day,"  said  Tremaine. 

His  tone  silenced  dispute,  and  the  sheriff 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  drove  away. 

Tremaine  rode  along  listlessly,  giving  his  horse 
the  bridle.  The  road  lay  by  the  river,  already 
sinking  and  half  choked  by  the  trees  and  shrubs 
washed  down  by  winter  storms.  But  the  poppies 
were  red  on  the  banks,  and  the  yellow  lupins 
mocked  the  corruption  below.  The  sun  like  a 
golden  nautilus  skimmed  the  concave  deep.  The 
birds  sang  in  the  trees  as  if  the  world  had  stopped 
to  listen  and  knew  naught  of  sorrow  nor  care. 
Only  a  hare,  sitting  by  an  oak-tuft,  suddenly  raised 
his  long  ears  at  sight  of  man,  then  fled  wildly  into 
the  distance. 

It  is  a  pretty  trick  of  authors  to  make  nature 
ever  in  sympathy  with  man,  but  as  a  matter  of 
fact  she  seldom  is.  Where  one  person,  stunned 
with  grief,  hears  the  wind  moan  in  sympathy,  and 
watches  a  leaden  sky  drop  heavy  tears,  unnum 
bered  gaze  with  straining  eyes  across  a  radiant 
landscape  and  wonder,  in  the  egoism  of  their  grief, 


240  LOS  CERRITOS. 

how  the  men  can  work  in  the  fields  as  they  did 
yesterday,  how  the  birds  can  sing,  the  warm  breeze 
scatter  the  perfume  of  the  flowers  abroad,  how 
the  very  earth  does  not  cease  to  revolve.  As  for 
another  phase  of  the  matter,  Shakespeare,  that 
master  of  tricks,  yet  makes  Richard  III.  on  the 
morning  of  the  battle  of  Bosworth  most  perti 
nently  say: 

"  The  sun  will  not  be  seen  to-day: 
The  sky  doth  frown  and  lour  upon  our  army. 
Not  shine  to-day!    Why,  what  is  that  to  me 
More  than  to  Richmond?  for  the  self -same  heaven 
That  frowns  on  me,  looks  sadly  upon  him." 

Tremaine,  usually  at  one  with  nature  in  any 
mood,  was  depressed  by  her  to-day.  Carmelita 
was  nature's  favorite  child  and  the  mother  sug 
gested  the  daughter.  Moreover  he  was  not  on 
good  terms  with  himself.  He  had  sacrificed  his 
better  promptings  to  that  determination  to  win  at 
cost  of  man  or  right  which  is  in  the  blood  of  every 
Calif ornian  of  this  generation:  the  legacy  inher 
ited  from  the  men  whose  fever  for  gold  and  hard 
ships  in  an  unbroken  country  had  made  the  indi 
vidual  paramount  to  the  race.  "  I  suppose  it  is 
the  brute  in  me,"  he  thought.  "  We  Californians 


LOS  CERR1TOS.  24! 

are  made  of  nature's  raw  material,  character,  in 
tellect,  genius,  all,  and  are  half  barbarians  in  con 
sequence.  I  feel  savage  yet  and  hot  for  a  fight." 

The  road  turned  and  passed  the  head  of  a  gulch. 
The  place  was  unusually  lonely  even  for  a  thinly- 
settled  country,  and  lying  between  two  high  and 
thickly  wooded  hills  was  sombre  on  that  brilliant 
day.  Long  strands  of  sickly  green  moss,  like 
witches'  unkempt  beards,  draped  every  limb,  and 
no  flowers  grew  among  the  rocks.  Half  way  down 
the  canon  was  a  rude  hut,  and  above  it  grew  heavy 
willows,  casting  their  long  shadows  over  a  de 
serted  dwelling  that  no  man  passed  at  night  alone. 

"  It  is  the  hut  of  Vasquez,"  thought  Tremaine, 
"  and  will  be  worth  having  seen." 

He  rode  down  the  gulch,  his  horse  stumbling 
over  the  loose  stones.  The  bandit  had  not  been 
grasping  in  the  matter  of  land,  for  he  could  not 
have  raised  a  crop  there. 

When  Tremaine  reached  the  hut  he  dismounted 
and  went  within.  There  were  only  two  rooms  and 
no  furniture  except  a  rusty  old  stove  and  a  bench. 
Miserable  as  the  articles  were  they  would  have 

been  appropriated  long  ago  in  this  land  of  poverty, 
16 


242  LOS   CERRITOS. 

had  there  been  a  man  in  the  neighborhood  who 
dared  go  to  the  ruined  home  of  the  outlaw  and 
brave  his  ghost.  More  than  one,  galloping  by  the 
gulch  at  night,  swore  that  he  had  seen  a  shadowy 
form  flying  up  and  down  as  if  pursued  by  the 
demons  who  were  doubtless  his  present  associates. 

Tremaine  sat  down  on  the  bench  in  the  kitchen 
and  lit  a  cigar.  He  liked  the  quiet  of  the  place 
and  it  did  not  mock  him  with  memories  of  Car- 
melita.  This  gloomy  canon  did  not  suit  her. 
Nature  had  wrought  her  in  spring  when  the  blood 
was  red  and  warm  in  her  own  veins,  imagination 
rich  with  the  awakened  instinct  of  creation.  She 
should  lie  forever  in  banks  of  wild-flowers,  or 
splash  through  a  wondrous  creek  gorgeous  with 
primitive  color  and  a  pink  mist  creeping  over  the 
mountain  above — 

He  rose  impatiently  and  went  out  to  the  open. 
The  tethered  mustang,  already  fond  of  him,  raised 
his  nose  from  the  grass,  coaxing  for  a  longer  meal. 
But  Tremaine  was  in  no  mood  to  linger.  He  was 
about  to  untie  the  lariat  when  something  hard  hit 
his  shoulder  and  glided  over  his  arm. 

The  low  infuriated  cry  of  a  woman,  a  howl  of 


LOS   CERRITOS.  243 

pain  and  baffled  purpose,  and  in  a  fateful  instant 
two  men  had  rushed  together  and  grappled.  In 
the  thick  side  of  Castro's  buckskin  jacket  was  the 
knife  Carmelita  had  plunged  there  as  he  flung 
the  lasso,  and  this  Tremaine  strove  to  wrench  out, 
for  neither  man  had  time  to  draw  his  pistol.  But 
in  that  first  sudden  confusion  he  saw  nothing  but 
the  face  of  Carmelita.  It  was  transfigured.  Not 
a  trace  of  its  tenderness  remained.  The  teeth 
were  clenched  with  fierce  cruelty  behind  tense 
bloodless  lips,  the  eyes  were  blazing  with  lust  of 
blood,  the  whole  face  as  terrible  in  its  ferocity  as 
that  of  a  tigress  wrenched  of  her  young. 

"  Kill  him !  Kill  him !  "  she  screamed.  "  He  go 
to  rope  you  and  drag  you  like  the  dog.  O  Dios ! 
si  I  no  come  after  him !  " 

Then  Tremaine  lost  consciousness  of  everything 
but  the  blind  instinct  to  kill.  All  the  pent-up 
passion  of  years,  stirred,  but  repressed  of  late, 
leaped  through  his  veins  and  boiled  in  his  head. 
In  that  moment  he  was  as  great  a  brute  as  the 
one  he  fought.  The  men  grappled  like  bears  in  a 
death  embrace,  each  snatching  at  the  other's  pistol 
and  wrenching  to  right  and  left  as  fingers  and  hip- 


244  LOS   CERRITOS. 

pockets  approached  too  near.  If  Tremaine  had 
only  a  Derringer !  If  he  could  only  tear  the  veins 
from  the  man's  body  and  get  him  prone  that  he 
might  stamp  him  to  jelly.  Again  he  made  a  pass 
for  the  low  swinging  knife — his  own  was  flattened 
between  two  hot,  straining  bodies — and  again, 
Castro,  roaring  like  a  bull,  and  making  furious 
lunges  with  his  jaws,  tightened  his  embrace,  until 
Tremaine  felt  as  if  ribs  and  lungs  were  being 
ground  to  paste.  But  if  Castro  had  muscles  of 
iron,  Tremaine's  were  those  of  steel. 

The  two  men's  faces  were  close  together,  black, 
murderous.  Their  savage  breath  mingled.  Sud 
denly  Castro  flung  the  whole  weight  of  his  huge 
body  on  Tremaine's  left  forearm  and  the  wrist 
bone  cracked  like  a  china  plate.  A  knife  flashed 
in  the  air  and  through  the  thin  silk  shirt  into 
Tremaine's  left  shoulder.  Then  with  a  mad  shout 
of  triumph  Castro  flung  the  wounded  man  to  the 
ground  and  swung  his  right  hand  for  his  pistol. 
But  Carmelita  had  it.  She  had  not  wept  nor 
prayed.  She  had  watched  her  chance.  As  Castro 
stabbed  Tremaine  she  plucked  the  pistol  from  its 


LOS   CERRITOS.  245 

sheath  on  his  hip,  and  he  turned  to  find  it  pointed 
at  him.  She  could  not  miss  that  broad  target. 

"Go,"  she  whispered  hoarsely;  but  her  hand 
was  steady.  "  Go,  Castro,  or  I  shoot.  Touch  him 
and  I  kill  you  dead." 

Castro,  with  purple,  shaking  lips,  glared  from 
her  to  Tremaine.  His  antagonist's  face  was  white 
and  the  eyes  were  closed.  Was  he  dead  already? 
The  lasso  lay  near  him  and  seemed  to  twist  itself 
into  a  hangman's  rope.  Castro  ran  down  the 
gulch  as  if  the  law  was  already  at  his  heels,  and 
Carmelita  knew  that  he  would  not  return. 


246  LOS   CERRITOS. 


XII. 

A   GHOST. 

THE  pistol  dropped  from  Carmelita's  hand,  the 
ferocity  ebbed  from  her  face,  her  womanhood 
surged  to  the  surface  once  more. 

" Dios  de  mi  alma!  "  she  sobbed,  "he  is  dead." 

She  fell  on  her  knees  and  bent  over  him.  "  Si 
he  is  dead  he  is  mine,"  she  thought,  and  exulta 
tion  kept  pain  at  bay  for  a  moment.  "It  no  can 
be  wrong  to  kiss  him  now  si  he  is  dead,"  and  she 
laid  her  cheek  to  his,  then  put  both  hands  about 
his  face  and  kissed  him  on  the  mouth.  She  drew 
his  head  up  to  her  warm,  round  bosom  and  laid 
it  there  unheeding  the  weight  of  his  body. 

"  I  stay  here  till  I  die  too,"  she  whispered  to 
him.  "  I  never  leave  you."  She  pushed  back  the 
damp  hair  and  drew  her  brown  fingers  across  his 
forehead  with  a  woman's  instinctive  caress,  smooth 
ing  down  the  refractory  hairs  of  his  eyebrows. 
"  The  other  woman,  she  no  can  do  that  never  again. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  247 

Si  he  live,  I  no  do  it  nothing,  but  now,  si  she  come, 
I  kill  her  by  the  door." 

For  this  girl,  in  passion  or  in  suffering,  had  had 
no  thought  of  what  is  technically  known  as  sin. 
A  pure  child  of  nature,  she  had,  vital  and  undy 
ing  within  her,  the  instinct  of  chastity,  that  tradi 
tional  inheritance  of  woman,  transmitted  down 
through  the  centuries;  and  the  cold  light  of  intel 
lectual  reasoning  could  never  even  wither  it. 
Naturally  gifted  as  she  was,  she  must  feel  always, 
reason  never,  and  there  had  been  no  influence  in 
her  plastic  years  to  make  unbonded  love  seem 
other  than  deadly  sin.  Her  conscience  had  grown 
to  unblunted  maturity  and  spread  its  green  and 
fragrant  branches  over  the  clean  white  flowers  of 
her  soul.  Tremaine,  in  restive  hours,  had  judged 
rightly  that  she  could  be  won  only  as  such  women 
can  be;  and,  when  social  ideals  were  crumbling, 
perhaps  that  alone  had  cemented  his  resolution 
to  go  where  he  could  see  her  no  more. 

Her  eyes  fell  on  the  trickling  blood  again,  and 
she  relaxed  her  arms  and  laid  him  gently  on 
the  ground.  She  remembered  having  heard  that 
a  dead  man's  blood  did  not  flow.  She  took  his 


248  LOS   CERRITOS. 

hat  and  running  to  the  spring  behind  the  house 
filled  it  with  water.  When  she  returned  she  put 
his  head  on  her  knee  and  dashed  a  palm-full  of 
the  water  in  his  face. 

He  opened  his  eyes  under  the  shock  and  looked 
up  vaguely.  Then,  as  sense  returned,  he  remained 
quiet,  gazing  into  Carmelita's  eyes,  which  revealed 
more  than  she  knew.  For  a  moment  she  too  was 
silent,  fearful  of  startling  away  the  returning 
spirit,  then  suddenly  averted  her  eyes  from  the 
growing  power  of  his,  and  the  blood  that  had 
burnt  her  face  receded  quickly. 

"Your  arm  hurt?"  she  asked,  her  voice  cold 
with  the  effort  to  steady  it. 

"Yes;  it  is  broken." 

"The  padre — I  go  for  him  soon.  But  first, 
much  better  you  go  in  the  hut." 

"  Yery  well.     But  you  must  help  me." 

He  managed  to  struggle  to  his  feet  and  drag 
himself  to  the  hut,  then  fainted  again. 

The  water  revived  him  after  a  time,  but  his 
head  was  heavy,  and  his  swollen  arm  throbbing 
with  pain.  He  lay  for  a  few  moments  grasping 
Carmelita's  tightly,  then  opened  his  eyes. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  249 

"Can  you  bring  me  my  saddle  fora  pillow?" 
he  asked. 

She  went  out  and  unsaddled  the  mustang,  turn 
ing  the  animal  loose  as  she  did  so.  After  she  had 
fixed  Tremaine's  head  comfortably  he  said  to  her: 

"  Go  now,  but  don't  be  long.  And  get  out  my 
revolver  before  you  go.' 

She  gave  him  his  pistol,  put  Castro's  in  her  own 
belt,  then  left  the  hut.  There  was  little  to  be  said 
between  them ! 

Her  mustang  was  tethered  at  the  head  of  the 
gulch  and  she  sprang  on  him  and  urged  the  tired 
animal  to  a  gallop.  The  padre's  house  was  ten 
miles  away,  but  she  reached  it  before  dark.  On 
her  last  visit  she  had  been  too  blind  with  her  own 
grief  to  notice  the  change  in  him,  but  she  was 
shocked  at  his  face  to-night. 

"  You  are  like  the  old  mens,"  she  said.  "  Padre 
mio!  what  is  the  matter? " 

But  he  would  answer  none  of  her  questions, 
and  she  stated  her  errand.  He  heard  her  listlessly, 
but  promised  to  go  to  Tremaine  and  set  his  arm. 

"  I  will  get  Espinoza  and  a  wagon  and  mattress," 
he  said,  "  and  bring  Mr.  Tremaine  here.  He  will  be 


250  LOS   CERRITOS. 

more  comfortable  than  at  the  Aguitas.  Now  go 
and  take  this  medicine  in  case  he  has  fever.  It 
may  be  morning  before  I  get  there,  although  I 
shall  go  as  quickly  as  possible.  And  take  this 
bread  and  candle." 

The  ride  back  was  dark  and  haunted  by  many 
a  fear.  Just  before  she  reached  the  gulch  the 
moon,  swimming  between  the  great  ocean  of 
space  and  rolling  waves  of  cloud,  sent  a  long 
beam  through  the  dark  currents  and  made  the 
haunted  canon  momentarily  alight.  A  faint  wind 
was  swaying  the  moss  that  hung  from  the  gaunt 
branches  of  the  trees  on  the  hills,  and  the  ghostly 
light  gave  it  a  horrid  suggestion  of  human  vital 
ity.  Carmelita  shuddered  and  crossed  herself. 
She  had  all  the  superstition  of  her  race  and  breed 
ing.  Oh!  if  Tremaine  had  only  gone  elsewhere 
this  day.  She  could  have  ridden  through  twenty 
counties  without  a  qualm.  She  brought  her  horse 
to  a  halt  which  nearly  unseated  her.  Something 
was  running  down  the  gulch.  Dios!  it  was  the 
murderer  himself.  She  wheeled  her  horse  about 
and  flew  over  the  road  she  had  come.  But  only 
for  a  moment.  With  a  savage  exclamation  of  dis- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  251 

gust  she  turned  again  and  headed  straight  for 
the  hut.  Something  tottered  past  her  waving  its 
long  arms  and  crying  like  a  dumb  beast  in  pain. 
She  sprang  from  the  mustang  with  half  shut-eyes 
and  panting  chest,  and  rushing  into  the  house, 
bolted  the  door  and  lit  the  candle  with  jumping 
fingers.  She  thrust  it  hastily  upon  a  shelf  and 
ran  to  Tremaine.  He  was  sitting  up,  watching 
her  with  bright  widely  opened  eyes. 

UO  sefior,"  she  gasped,  "si  you  know  how 
glad  I  am  you  no  are  sleep !  I  have  so  terreeblay 
fright.  Yasquez — but  much  better  you  lie  down." 

"  Do  not  turn  any  of  them  out  to-day,"  he  said 
unsteadily.  "  I  have  something  to  say  to  them 
first,"  and  he  tried  to  stand  up. 

"  Dios  mio  " !  thought  the  girl,  "  he  have  the  de 
lirium,  like  Jacoba  when  she  have  the  fever. 
Oh,  what  I  do!" 

She  took  him  by  the  arm  and  forced  him  back 
to  his  pillow. 

"  Lie  down,"  she  cried  peremptorily.  "  I  no  let 
you  move." 

He  tried  to  shake  her  off.  "But  suppose  I 
don't  want  to  lie  down.  Just  make  this  person 


252  LOS   CERRITOS. 

let  go  my  other  arm,  will  you?  I  must  be  off.  I 
have  something  important  to  say  to  those  men." 

"But  I  want  you  stay  here  with  me,  senor," 
faltered  the  girl. 

"  But  suppose  I  don't  want  to  stay  with  you, 
my  good  girl;  what  then? " 

She  bent  over  him  with  dilating  eyes.  "  You 
no  know  me?  You  no  know  me?  Oh,  say  you 
know  me  and  I  no  care  for  the  rest!  " 

He  looked  at  her  blankly  and  did  not  seem  dis 
posed  to  answer  at  all. 

The  girl  put  her  lips  to  his  ear. 

"  Alejandro !  Alejandro !  "  she  whispered,  "  Oh, 
you  know  me,  si  you  no  are  right !  " 

"  I  might  give  them  five  hundred  a  piece,"  he 
murmured,  "  but  it  seems  so  paltry.  "  Oh,  if  one 
could  only  know  what  it  is  best  to  do."  And  he 
closed  his  eyes  and  fell  into  an  uneasy  slumber. 

Carmelita  crept  close  to  him  because  he  was  the 
only  living  thing  near,  not  because  she  felt  any 
sense  of  his  protection  to-night.  The  wind  was 
sighing  in  the  canon.  The  great  willows  behind 
the  hut  trailed  their  branches  over  the  roof  with 
a  slow  monotonous  scraping.  The  low  boom  of 


LOS  CERRITOS. 

the  river  came  from  far,  and  in  the  room  the  sick 
man  muttered.  Carmelita  made  no  attempt  to 
sleep.  Superstition  was  quickening  every  pulse. 
She  dared  not  move  lest  again  she  see  Vasquez  in 
the  shadows  behind  her.  The  candle  in  the  corner 
looked  like  a  solitary  watcher  at  a  wake,  and  its 
flame  bent  and  flared  as  the  wind  crept  through 
the  cracks  of  the  hut — then  the  shadows  danced 
like  the  ghosts  of  the  band  Vasquez  had  gathered 
about  him  in  hell. 

The  girl  put  her  arid  lips  to  her  lover's  ear. 
"Alejandro !  Alejandro ! "  she  muttered  implor 
ingly.  "  Come  to  me.  Oh,  I  am  so  fright." 

"  Perhaps,  perhaps,"  muttered  Tremaine.  "  But 
it  seems  such  a  Quixotic  thing  to  do." 

A  gust  of  wind  came  through  the  window  and 
blew  out  the  candle.  It  swept  cold  leaves  like 
dead  fingers  across  the  face  of  the  cowering  girl 
and  rattled  the  latch  with  a  long  howling  wail. 

She  caught  her  galloping  nerves,  and  crossing 
the  room  lit  the  candle  again. 

"  Once  I  think  I  am  brave,"  she  thought  hope 
lessly,  "  but  now  I  think  so  great  a  coward  no  live. 
Oh !  si  he  were  well.  I  no  care  for  nothing  then — " 


254  LOS   CERRITOS. 

Slie  turned  quickly  with  a  suppressed  cry. 
Some  one  was  creeping  among  the  stones  in  front 
.of  the  hut.  An  icy  sweat  burst  from  every  pore 
of  her  body.  If  the  steps  were  Castro's  jhe  would 
be  the  lioness  defending  her  wounded  mate,  but 
against  ghosts  her  spirit  offered  no  bulwark. 

The  steps  shuffled  near.  They  stopped,  and  a 
long  sighing  moan  smote  on  throbbing  ears.  Car- 
melita,  with  hard  dilating  eyes,  stared  at  the 
window.  Again  the  stealthy  steps  approached— 
no !  the  thing  was  crawling.  Then,  a  hand,  lean, 
white,  nerveless,  moved  on  the  low  sill  and  hung 
limply  over.  The  waves  had  broken  on  the  shore 
of  the  moon's  cold  domain  and  the  bloodless  thing 
on  the  sill  gleamed  in  the  hard  white  beams. 
The  hand  gave  a  spasmotic  clutch,  there  was  a  low 
gurgling  sound,  and  then,  slowly,  with  painful 
effort,  a  white  matted  head,  with  gaunt  hungry 
face,  raised  itself  within  the  aperture  and  snapped 
its  gums  at  Carmelita. 

The  girl  broke  into  wild  hysterical  weeping. 

"Dios  mio!  Dios  mio!"  she  cried  frantically. 
"  It  is  the  old  Indian." 

She  snatched  the  loaf  of  bread  from  the  shelf 


LOS   CERRITOS.  255 

and  flnng  it  through  the  window,  then  fell  prone 
beside  Tremaine,  her  senses  at  rest.  With  an  in 
stinctive  movement,  he  put  out  his  arm  and  drew 
her  to  him,  but  did  not  awaken. 


256  LOS  CERRtTOS. 


XIII. 

THE   EESPITE. 

THE  padre  and  Espinoza  arrived  at  dawn.  Car- 
melita  was  herself  once  more,  but  her  eyes  were 
hollow  and  her  face  was  white.  Tremaine  was  still 
half -asleep,  but  no  longer  muttered. 

"Pobrecita!  pobrecita!"  said  Espinoza,  patting 
his  niece's  forlorn  head.  "Bad  time  you  have, 
no?  He  maka  much  troubles,  mijita? " 

She  fondled  his  hand  but  made  no  confidence, 
and  in  a  moment  the  padre,  who  was  examining 
Tremaine's  arm  and  chest,  called  to  her  to  bring 
him  some  water. 

She  watched  the  priest  bind  up  the  wound  and 
gave  a  little  cry  as  he  set  the  wrist. 

"Hurtcha  him?"  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes;  but  he  is  the  kind  to  stand  it.  Give  me 
those  bandages." 

The  padre  had  studied  surgery  before  coming 
to  this  abandoned  spot  and  in  a  short  time  Tre- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  257 

maine  had  been  skilfully  cared  for.  Then  the  two 
men  put  him  on  the  mattress  and  carried  him  to 
the  wagon.  Carmelita  followed  and  took  his  head 
in  her  lap,  and  after  a  long  cold  ride  Tremaine 
was  made  comfortable  in  the  padre's  bed.  He  sent 
word  to  Hawkins  that  he  had  had  an  accident  and 
would  not  be  at  the  Aguitas  for  a  week,  but  gave 
him  no  particulars. 

His  fever  lasted  two  days  and  he  slept  most  of 
the  time,  but  on  the  third  he  awoke  with  normal 
pulse  and  a  clear  head.  He  felt  rather  weak,  but 
the  languor  in  his  veins  was  not  unpleasant.  As 
he  opened  his  eyes  Carmelita  gave  him  his  medi 
cine  and  told  him  that  the  padre  had  gone  out 
and  would  not  return  for  some  hours. 

"  Thank  heaven,"  he  thought,  but  aloud  he  said, 
"  Carmelita,  come  here." 

She  took  a  chair  by  the  bed. 

"  What  I  can  do? "  she  asked. 

"  Give  me  your  hand." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  she  put  her  hand 
in  his.     She  did  not  observe  that  his  clasp  was 
any  weaker  than  when  lie  had  sat  beside  her  lis 
tening  to  Enrique's  woes. 
17 


258  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  Tell  me,  Carmelita,  have  you  forgiven  me  for 
being  Alexander  Tremaine?" 

She  looked  past  him  at  the  whitewashed  wall 
by  the  head  of  the  bed. 

"  I  no  know,"  she  said  at  length.  "  You  no  can 
help,  I  suppose.  And — I  no  can  help  too." 

"  But  did  you  not  hate  me  at  first — just  after  I 
told  you?" 

"  I  no  know  what  I  feel  then.    I — no  ask  me." 

"Tell  me  another  thing;  did  you  follow  Castro 
the  other  day  ?  It  seems  hardly  possible  that  you 
were  in  the  canon  by  accident." 

"  Yes,  I  follow  him  all  the  day,  when  I  find  you 
are  out  with  the  sheriffs,  and  no  pay  attention  to 
my  letter.  And  jus  after  you  throw  the  things 
out  of  the  first  hacienda  and  fright  all  the  mens 
so  they  no  do  it  nothing,  I  am  at  Miller's  house 
and  I  hear  Castro  swear  to  killing  you.  So  I  fol 
low  him  and  I  stick  him  with  the  knife  jus  when 
he  throw  the  rope,  so  it  no  go  straight.  O  senor, 
you  know  what  he  do  si  the  rope  go  right  and  tie 
your  arms  so  you  no  can  move?  He  drag  you 
roun  on  the  groun  like  you  are  a  calf  and  whip 
you  and  stamp  on  you  and  spit  in  your  face.  Then 


LOS   CERRITOS.  259 

when  lie  have  make  you  so  shem  you  want  to  die 
he  shoot  you  and  you  no  can  do  it  nothing." 

Tremaine's  face  flushed  purple  at  the  bare 
thought  of  the  indignity  he  had  escaped.  And  a 
woman  had  saved  him  from  it !  But  he  did  not 
resent  the  rescue,  for  the  woman  was  Carmelita. 

"And  I  give  you  so  much  in  return!"  he  an 
swered  bitterly  after  a  moment.  "  I  have  done  so 
much  good  by  coming  to  this  ranch !  " 

"0  sefior!"  cried  the  girl,  the  enforced  self- 
control  of  the  past  week  beginning  to  give  way, 
"  why  we  live?  why  we  are  make? " 

"When  a  few  million  more  unhappy  mortals 
have  asked  that  question,  Carmelita,  perhaps  the 
Almighty  will  see  fit  to  answer  it,"  said  Tremaine 
bitterly.  "  In  the  mean  time  the  priests  will 
stand  before  their  altars  and  give  thanks  that  the 
millions  are  permitted  to  suffer." 

"But,  sehor!  senor!  it  is  so  hard  to  live  fifty, 
sixty,  years,  and  in  life  there  no  is  nothing- 
She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  walked  up  and  down 
the  little  room.  "  The  padre  say  in  life  there  is 
nothing.  Geraldina  say  there  no  is  one  thing  but 
love  and  that  no  last.  I  no  know  what  the  other 


260  LOS   CERRITOS. 

peoples  they  do  in  their  lifes  to  forget  what  no 
make  them  happy  to  remember,  but  I  see  mine. 
For  fifty  years  I  sit  sometime  in  my  room  and 
make  the  closes  for  the  childrens,  sometime  I 
kneel  in  the  Mission  and  pray  to  die,  and  some 
time  I  ride  to  the  mountain.  Bime  by  I  am  too 
old  to  ride,  and  then  I  only  go  to  the  Mission. 
That,  senor,  is  my  life." 

"  Carmelita,  be  careful!  "  Tremaine  half  sprang 
from  the  bed,  then  sank  back  again  and  turned 
his  face  to  the  wall. 

She  stood  beside  him.  "Forgive  me,  no?"  she 
said,  but  her  eyes  were  still  flaming  and  her  mouth 
was  tightly  set.  "  I  no  complain  any  more.  And 
I  have  you  now.  I  forget  I  can  think  of  that  while 
I  live.  Think,  senor,  think  si  you  no  come !  Then 
I  no  have  nothing  to  remember."  She  thought  of 
Geraldine's  white  face  as  she  spoke,  but  she  would 
not  have  given  back  one  of  her  memories. 

He  turned  suddenly  and  looked  at  her  with  the 
powerful  and  penetrating-  gaze  which  had  con 
vinced  so  many  people  of  the  truth  of  his  words, 
against  their  own  preconceived  ideas. 

He  spoke  deliberately. 


LOS  CERRITOS.  261 

"  You  will  forget  me,"  he  said.  "  You  are  only 
a  child.  I  am  the  first  man  you  have  seen  except 
your  padre  and  these  people  you  scorn.  But  that 
is  all.  You  do  not  really  love  me.  You  will  find 
that  out  when— 

"What! "  cried  Carmelita,  stung,  as  all  women 
are,  by  distrust  in  the  strength  of  their  passion. 
Her  self-control  gave  way  utterly.  "  You  think  I 
no  love  you?  Why,  then,  you  think  I  lie  on  the 
groun  all  night  when  you  tell  me  your  name  and 
I  know  you  have  the  wife,  and  remember  I  have 
tell  the  mens  to  kill  you.  Why  I  beat  myself 
against  the  earth  and  beg  it  to  opa  and  take  me 
down  and  keep  me  forever?  Why  you  think  I  go 
before  it  is  light  to  the  mountain  and  beg  my  red 
wood  to  fall  on  me  and  kill  me  si  he  love  me? 
Why  you  think  I  cry  and  sob  till  1  no  have  one 
tear  left  and  my  eyes  burn  like  they  have  the  fire 
in  them  that  eat  my  heart?  Why  I  hate  the  birds 
in  the  trees  I  hare  love  before?  The  padre  he  tell 
me  to  pray,  but  I  no  can !  The  prayer  is  good 
when  you  have  live  your  life,  like  Geraldina  and 
the  padre.  It  is  good  when  you  feel  tire  out  and 
pray  for  strength  to  live;  but  no  when  you  are 


262  LOS   CERRITOS. 

young  and  the  heart  want  another  heart  like  its 
own.  God  no  can  satisfy,  then.  We  no  can  feel 
Him,  or  see  Him,  or  hear  Him.  He  is  cold  and 
far  and  pure  like  the  moon,  and  that  no  is  what 
we  want  when  we  are  young.  Si  you  no  have  the 
wife  I  could  love  you  like  the  old  love  God,  but 
si  I  no  can  have  that  I  no  want  nothing  else  at 
all."  And  Carmelita,  who  had  meant  to  keep  her 
soul  in  its  depths,  rushed  from  the  house,  and 
springing  on  Tremaine's  mustang  urged  him  to  a 
wild  gallop.  When  she  returned,  hours  later, 
physical  fatigue  had  conquered  spiritual  pain. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  263 


XIV. 

KICH   AND   POOR. 

A  WEEK  passed  and  Tremaine's  strength  re 
turned  in  spite  of  himself.  He  was  in  no  hurry  to 
get  well,  but  his  powerful  physique  could  not  be 
long  affected  even  by  a  broken  arm,  and  one  morn 
ing  the  padre  told  him  that  the  ride  to  the  Agui- 
tas  would  not  hurt  him  and  that  the  sheriffs  had 
finished  the  dispossessing  and  were  awaiting  fur 
ther  instructions. 

"Very  well,"  said  Tremaine  shortly.  "I  will 
drive  over  at  ten  to-night.  I  do  not  wish  to  go 
before."  Then  he  held  out  his  hand  to  the  priest. 
"  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  "  and  let  me  thank  you  for 
your  hospitality,  poor  a  return  as  thanks  must  be." 

"  Do  not  thank  me,"  said  the  priest.  "  I  did  but 
my  duty.  But  there  is  one  question  I  wish  to  ask 
you,  if  you  will  pardon  my  presumption." 

"Ask  anything  you  like."  Tremaine  pushed  a 
chair  to  the  open  window  and  sat  down.  Carme- 
lita  had  gone  out  and  the  two  men  were  alone. 


264  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  whether  you  intend  doing 
anything  for  the  wretched  people,  who  at  present 
are  herding  like  so  many  animals  on  Mr.  Light- 
foot's  ranch?" 

"  Yes,  I  shall  do  something." 

The  padre  shook  his  head.  "  Go  and  see  them 
before  you  decide  what  to  do.  You  do  not  realize 
their  misery.  There  are  over  three  hundred  of 
them,  men,  wromen,  and  children,  and  they  are 
sleeping  in  the  wet  grass  at  night;  in  the  daytime 
huddling  under  the  trees  to  escape  the  scorching 
sun ;  the  children  crying  with  hunger  and  running 
naked  with  the  pigs;  the  women  sunk  on  the 
ground  in  hopeless  indifference;  the  men  sullen 
and  cowed  out  of  their  manhood.  Mr.  Tremaine," 
said  the  pries  fc,  stirred  from  his  apathy  by  the 
call  of  humanity,  which  alone  had  power  to  touch 
him,  "  you  are  a  rich  man  and  burdened  with  a 
terrible  responsibility.  You  have  millions  that 
you  took  as  lightly  from  your  dead  father's  hand 
as  you  accepted  the  sweetmeats  your  mother  gave 
you  when  a  child.  What  can  you  do  with  fifteen 
million  dollars?  A  hundred  thousand  would  sup 
ply  every  want,  gratify  every  ambition — display, 


LOS   CERRITOS.  265 

and  love  of  power  alone  excepted.  You  spend 
your  life  in  alternate  gratification  of  your  petty 
desires  and  in  revolving  plans  for  the  investment 
of  your  money.  As  you  sit  in  your  magnificent 
library,  whose  luxury  must  surfeit  and  weary  at 
times,  with  your  lawyers  and  agents  looking  over 
your  deeds  and  accounts,  your  leases  and  mort 
gages,  frowning  with  annoyance  at  rents  overdue, 
or  thinking  uneasily  of  a  great  sum  in  the  bank 
which  is  bringing  no  interest,  does  imagination 
never  picture  your  mother  at  the  wash-tub,  your 
wife  toiling  for  a  dozen  clamorous  children,  sewing, 
nursing,  scrubbing  your  floors  up  to  the  hour  of 
confinement,  cooking  your  wretched  dinner  with 
a  screaming  half -fed  child  in  her  arms?  When 
your  valet  brings  the  clothes  you  are  to  wear  at  a 
costly  dinner  to  which  rich  men  flock  at  your  bid 
ding,  do  you  ever  amuse  yourself  picturing  a  one- 
roomed  hovel  of  which  you  are  lord,  and  wherein 
you  sit  down  to  a  dinner  of  greasy  meat  and  boiled 
potatoes  with  a  lot  of  half-washed  scuffling  chil 
dren,  and  a  hot-faced  frowsy  wife,  cross,  sullen, 
snatching  her  mouthfuls  between  the  demands  of 
her  children?  Do  you  see  yourself  in  a  woollen 


266  LOS   CERRITOS. 

shirt  you  have  worn  for  a  year,  and  a  pair  of  over 
alls  stiff  with  grease  and  earth,  eating  your  savor 
less  meal,  too  weary  in  heart  and  body  to  make 
complaint?  When  you  lie  down  to  rest  in  a  bed 
which  yields  to  your  body  and  rests  every  mus 
cle,  do  you  intensify  its  luxury  by  imagining  your 
self  on  a  filthy  pulah  mattress,  stifling  under  your 
low  ceiling,  but  in  your  heavy  sleep  not  hearing 
even  the  angry  quarrels  of  your  children,  crowd 
ing  into  their  narrow  beds?  Forgive  me  if  I  have 
offended  you,  but  it  is  time  the  world  should  solve 
the  problem  it  has  wrought.  Socialism  is  a  fail 
ure  ;  and  the  further  it  develops  the  deeper  does 
it  demonstrate  its  impotence.  It  will  be  a  hun 
dred  years  before  Henry  George  is  recognized  as 
a  great  man.  I  see  no  present  solution  of  a  great 
and  intricate  problem  but  that  the  rich  should 
realize  their  duty  to  the  poor." 

Tremaine  was  not  angry,  and  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  what  to  do  for  the  squatters;  but  the 
subject  was  one  he  was  fond  of  arguing. 

"Are  you  sure  we  have  any  duty  to  the  poor?  " 
he  asked.  "  In  this  nineteenth  century  there  is  no 
more  excuse  for  poverty  than  for  certain  diseases 


LOS   CERRITOS.  267 

in  the  advanced  state  of  medical  science.  Intelli 
gence  and  the  commercial  instinct  have  never  been 
so  well  and  widely  developed.  It  is  the  excep 
tion  when  the  clever  man  or  the  industrious  man 
does  not  get  a  competence,  whether  his  sphere  be 
a  large  one  or  a  small  one.  There  is  no  place  in 
the  economy  of  nature  for  the  man  who  is  not 
willing  to  work,  or  for  the  witless.  Neither  is 
there  any  place  for  the  beggar.  When  a  man 
finds  that  the  world  has  no  place  for  him,  either 
because  he  has  outgrown  usefulness  or  never  had 
any,  or  because  he  has  not  been  able  to  make  his 
friends  love  him  well  enough  to  be  eager  to  keep 
him  alive,  then  he  should  be  quietly  put  out  of 
the  way  by  the  code  of  the  country.  The  scheme 
of  creation  takes  only  the  race  into  account,  not 
the  individual.  You  are  a  priest,  but  you  are  also 
an  intelligent  man,  and  I  don't  believe  I  shock 
you.  I  subscribe  to  no  charitable  institutions  ex 
cept  those  for  children ;  for  they — no  matter  what 
their  misfortunes  of  birth— have  a  future,  and  only 
time  can  prove  wrhether  they  are  fit  to  live  or  not. 
I  always  give  a  begging  woman  money  because  I 


268  LOS   CERRITOS. 

am  a  man,  although  the  same  logic  applies  to 
either  sex ;  but  I  never  give  a  nickel  to  a  man." 

"  Your  logic  is  right,"  said  the  priest,  who,  in 
spite  of  himself,  felt  the  stimulus  of  speaking 
with  a  man  of  his  own  world  once  more,  "  but  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  the  race  to  extinguish  the 
instinct  of  charity — of  charity  for  charity's  sake. 
Human  nature  would  harden  without  its  leaven 
ing  influence.  And,  unquestionably,  T  think  you 
view  the  matter  somewhat  brutally.  Eemember 
the  men  who  have  no  chance ;  men  with  brains  and 
industry  who  rot  in  an  old-world  city  for  means  to 
carry  them  to  the  new.  Not  but  what  the  male 
could  work  his  own  way  over,  but  what  is  he  to  do 
with  a  wife  and  family  of  children?  " 

"  He  has  no  business  to  have  either  wife  or  chil 
dren  until  he  is  established  in  life.  There  is  your 
i  world's  solution  of  the  problem  it  has  wrought ; ' 
let  procreation  halt  until  the  world  is  large  enough 
once  more  for  its  inhabitants.  I  am  not  quoting 
Malthus.  Let  the  marriage  ceremony  wait.  You 
shake  your  head  at  me.  Don't  talk  to  me  of  the 
sin  of  ignoring  nature.  It  does  not  weigh  a  feather 
in  the  scale  against  the  crime  of  stuffing  the  world 


LOS  CERRITOS.  269 

with  puny  beings  whose  only  resource  is  to  crawl 
out  of  life  as  fast  as  starvation  and  disappoint 
ment  will  take  them." 

"  Well,  let  that  point  go.  Good,  or  bad,  it  ap 
plies  only  to  the  future.  What  is  to  be  done  for 
the  misery  of  the  present?  Do  you  think,  your 
self,  that  it  is  right  and  just,  that  a  few  hundred 
rich  men  should  hold  the  world  in  their  hands, 
should  stifle  in  luxury  while  the  multitude  toils ; 
that  millions  should  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  rich 
for  the  miserable  wages  they  make? " 

"  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,  that  the  rich  are 
at  the  mercy  of  the  poor,  not  the  poor  at  that  of 
the  rich?  Who  permits  us  to  be  rich  if  not  the 
poor?  Who,  generation  after  generation,  have 
slowly  and  inevitably  forged  the  conditions  which 
allow  a  man  to  amass  wealth  at  the  expense  of  his 
brethren,  but  the  poor — since  they  represent  the 
great  body  of  humanity?  Suppose  each  man 
renting  a  house  in  San  Francisco  should  suddenly 
rise  and  say,  4 1  will  pay  no  more  rent? '  Who 
would  compel  him?  The  police?  militia?  They 
are  included  in  the  renting  community.  Who 
would  compel  them?  The  army?  Suppose  the 


LOS   CERRITOS. 

epidemic  spread?  What  chance  would  the  army 
have  against  the  concerted  millions  of  America? 
Then  I  should  see  my  mother  at  the  wash-tub,  and 
my  wife  stewing  greasy  meat  under  a  cabin  roof 
while  I  scratched  among  the  potatoes.  But  that 
is  just  where  we  are  safe.  There  never  will  be  a 
concerted  movement.  The  timid  and  the  indiffer 
ent  element  are  too  largely  in  the  majority,  and 
all  must  take  the  stand,  or  none  at  all.  But  the 
fact  remains  that  we  rich  men  hold  our  wealth  be 
cause  the  poor  man  fosters  the  conditions  which 
enable  us  so  to  do.  Why  does  he  foster  them? 
Because  he  intends  to  be  a  rich  man  himself,  some 
day,  and  if  he  destroyed  the  conditions  he  would 
destroy  his  own  hopes.  He  does  not  want  medi 
ocrity  any  more  than  the  rich  man  wants  it. 

"  He  wants  to  get  to  the  top. 

"  Therefore  he  lets  the  top  alone." 

The  priest  smiled.  "  That  is  true,"  he  said  al 
most  with  enthusiasm,  "  that  is  true.  I  don't  pre 
tend  to  argue  the  question  with  you,  for  I  have 
given  it  too  little  study.  But  I  appeal  again  to 
your  charity,  and  in  spite  of  your  cold-blooded 
theories,  I  believe  you  have  a  good  deal.  You  in- 


LOS   CERRITOS.  2/1 

tend  to  do  something  for  these  people,  and  I  have 
a  curiosity  to  know  what  it  is." 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  tell  you.  I  shall  give 
them  back  the  land,  and  divide  the  rest  of  the 
ranch  into  fifty-acre  farms,  which  I  shall  give  to 
such  applicants  as  investigation  proves  are  worthy. 
I  say — give  them,  but  I  shall  retain  control  for 
five  years,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  every  lazy 
man  will  be  turned  off.  At  the  same  time  I  will 
pay  the  taxes,  build  the  cottages  and  seed  the 
farms.  The  scheme  interests  me.  The  experi 
ment  is  a  dangerous  one ;  it  may  be  a  terrible  fail 
ure.  Suddenly  put  a  hopeless  man  in  possession 
of  a  future,  and  either  his  self-respect  will  develop, 
or  a  faith  in  providence  which  is  technically  known 
as  laziness.  But  although  I  recognize  no  obliga 
tion  in  the  matter,  I  am  glad  to  give  a  number  of 
fellow -men  that '  chance '  in  life  so  often  desper 
ately  demanded.  I  shall  make  the  farms  as  small 
as  possible,  however,  because  the  less  a  man  can 
live  comfortably  upon,  the  more  contented  he  is. 
Place  him  beyond  the  limitations  of  small  desires 
and  he  wants  the  earth  and  is  miserable  because 
he  can't  get  it.  None  of  us  who  are  beyond  would 


2/2  LOS   CERRITOS. 

go  down  to  those  conditions,  but  it  is  a  charity  to 
keep  the  seeds  of  discontent  in  our  own  small 
patches,  and  build  a  wall  about  them." 

"  You  will  succeed,"  said  the  priest,  "  I  feel  sure 
of  it,  for  you  have  head  as  well  as  heart.  You 
will  not  find  much  to  reward  or  encourage  you  at 
first.  These  men  are  sullen  and  lazy,  their  char 
acters  are  grovelling  and  insensible  to  all  higher 
instincts.  But  remember  that  civilization  has 
barely  touched  them,  that  circumstances  alone 
have  made  them  what  they  are,  that  under  the 
same  conditions  you  would  have  been  no  better. 
But  remember  also  that  if  the  men  are  nearly 
hopeless,  a  plastic  generation  is  rising  ready  to  be 
fashioned  in  the  unyielding  mould  of  Circum 
stance  ;  and  I  envy  you  that  you  have  it  in  your 
power  to  decree  whether  they  be  animals  or  self- 
respecting  men.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  what 
energy  and  life  I  have  left  are  at  your  service." 

Lt  Yes,"  said  Tremaine,  "  I  rely  upon  you  to  be 
my  chief  steward,  for  you  can  reach  these  people 
in  many  ways  that  I  cannot." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  273 


XV. 

DIVIDING   LINES. 

THE  stars  were  thick  above  the  Mission  as  Tre- 
maine  and  Carmelita  walked  up  and  down  the 
cloisters  during  the  last  hour  they  were  to  spend 
together.  The  light  in  the  girl's  eyes  was  watch 
ful  as  if  the  spirit  were  on  unresting  guard  over 
the  rebellious  womanhood  which  grew  with  the 
demand  for  its  surrender.  During  the  last  few 
days  she  had  not  spoken  of  herself,  and  Tremaine, 
writh  returning  strength,  had  been  equally  shy  of 
the  subject.  He  had  asked  her  many  questions 
about  the  squatters,  and  slight  as  was  her  personal 
acquaintance  with  them,  there  was  little  she  could 
not  tell  of  their  habits  and  characters. 

They  had  not  spoken  for  some  time,  but  sud 
denly  he  gave  an  impatient  sigh,  and  turned  to  her. 

"  I  never  felt  less  like  talking  business,"  he  said, 
"bat  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  and  it  must 

be  said  now,  for  I  shall  not  see  you  again." 
18 


2/4  LOS   CERRITOS. 

She  looked  hard  at  the  grim  walls  of  the  Mis 
sion  opposite,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  I  cannot  give  you  happiness,  my  dear;  I  have 
brought  you  only  misery.  But  this  I  will  do  in 
commemoration  of  you :  the  squatters  shall  have 
their  homes  and  I  shall  divide  the  rest  of  the  ranch 
among  those  who  will  make  the  best  use  of  it.  I 
say  I  do  this  in  commemoration  of  you,"  he  said 
turning  to  the  astounded  and  enraptured  girl, 
"  but  I  am  bound  to  confess  that  I  am  glad  of  the 
occupation  and  interest  it  will  give  me.  Are  you 
satisfied  with  me,  Carmelita?  You  were  very  hard 
upon  me  once,  I  remember.  You  told  me  some 
pretty  sharp  home  truths  during  that  first  inter 
view  of  ours.  But  if  there  is  anything  more  you 
want  you  shall  have  it." 

She  looked  back  at  him  with  eyes  in  which  the 
watch-fires  had  suddenly  died. 

"  Senor,"  she  said,  "  you  make  me  glad,  you 
have  make  me  suffer.  I  no  can  say  no  more." 

Tremaine  turned  from  her  quickly.  He  had 
that  self-control  which  only  passionate  men  do 
have,  until  they  see  fit  to  let  it  go,  when  its  very 
memory  cowers  afar,  forlorn,  with  trailing  wings. 


LOS   CERRITOS.  2?$ 

The  attempt  to  be  business-like  made  him 
brusque.  "  This  scheme  will  have  its  consolation 
for  you—  "  he  was  beginning,  when  she  inter 
rupted  him  eagerly. 

"  Senor,  there  is  one  more  thing." 

"  What  is  it?  I  shall  have  more  happiness  in 
giving  than  you  in  taking." 

"  Buy  the  forest  on  the  mountain.  Si  you  take 
care  the  mens  take  care  the  trees  too.  It  kill  me 
si  they  are  cut  down." 

"  I  will  buy  the  redwoods  and  you  shall  never 
see  an  axe  in  the  forest  again.  But  to  go  back 
to  what  I  was  saying.  I  wish  you  to  be  the  lead 
ing  spirit  here.  Your  Geraldine,  whoever  she 
may  be,  has  taught  you  the  meaning  of  the  word 
society.  Form  one  here  so  that  these  people  will 
take  an  interest  in  each  other.  Society  developed 
that  far  is  a  virtue;  a  step  further  and  it  is  a  vice. 
You  do  not  understand,  Carmelita,  and,  thank 
heaven,  you  never  will.  But  make  them  meet  and 
be  gay  together.  Have  pic-nics  (they  are  primi 
tive  enough  to  enjoy  them)  and  dances.  Make  each 
wedding  an  event;  I  will  give  every  girl  her  wed 
ding-gown.  Spur  their  ambition  and  make  them 


2/6  LOS   CERRITOS. 

go  to  school.  I  put  you  and  the  padre  in  charge 
of  the  ranch  for  I  shall  not  return.  He  will  send 
me  a  report  four  times  a  year  and  you  will  send 
me  a  demand  for  everything  you  want  done.  One 
day  there  will  be  a  town  here  and  you  will  be  re 
spected  and  remembered  as  its  patron  saint." 

The  girl's  face  flushed  and  sparkled.  Her  heart 
folded  its  wings  for  a  moment. 

"O  senor!  senor!"  she  cried.  "I  can  do  all 
that !  There  go  to  be  something  in  the  life !  " 

She  looked  past  him  dreamily.  A  measure  of 
compensation  had  come  to  her  and  there  was  some 
light  in  the  future.  It  was  as  if  a  pink  glow  had 
suffused  the  gray  plain  the  priest  had  pictured, 
and  sparks  were  bursting  through  the  ashes  be 
neath  the  smiles  of  the  passing  souls  above. 

Tremaine  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  blankly — then  remembered. 
The  pink  glow  vanished,  the  world  was  gray.  She 
touched  his  hand  with  her  cold  fingers. 

"Good-by,"  she  said.  Then  appalled,  broken, 
she  flung  herself  upon  him  pressing  her  ams  con 
vulsively  about  him.  "  O  my  redwood !  my  red- 


LOS   CERRITOS. 

wood!"  she  sobbed  wildly,  "give  to  me  the 
strength,  the  comfort !  I  no  can  bear  alone !  Help 
me  to  stand.  Oh,  put  your  arms  around  me,  and 
then  I  no  care*,  they  are  so  strong." 

Tremaine  bent  his  head  and  the  Mission  threw 
its  shadow  over  his  white  face  and  dilating  nos 
trils.  His  arm  curved  rigidly  about  her,  but  he 
pressed  her  tenderly  and  said  comforting  words. 

She  threw  herself  back  against  his  arm  and  lifted 
her  wet  face.  "  I  no  could  help,"  she  sobbed,  "  I 
no  could  help.  I  no  can  stand  alone  like  before, 
and  no  one  is  strong  like  you.  You  are  the.  tree 
now.  He  no  will  be  the  same  again.  Oh !  Alejan 
dro,  why  we  are  make? " 

"  You  will  never  be  alone.  Think  and  believe 
that  I  am  with  you  always.  You  will  never  be 
out  of  my  mind  for  an  hour  at  a  time.  You  have 
my  heart  and  my  soul.  Now  go,  Carmelita." 

A  wagon  rattled  out  of  the  padre's  corral.  Tre 
maine  stood  listening  to  the  wild  thumping  of  a 
mustang's  hoofs,  dying  in  the  distance. 


2/8  LOS  CERRITOS. 


XYL 

PEACE. 

GEEALDIISTE  lay  on  the  divan  watching  the  snn 
slip  over  the  mountain.  Once  she  held  her  hand 
up  to  the  parting  rays  and  fancied  they  wandered 
through.  Her  face  was  white  as  the  azaleas  be 
neath  her  window  and  her  mouth  was  like  their 
withered  petals.  Her  youth  had  gone,  but  it  left 
no  pang.  ISTor  did  she  suffer.  In  the  days  and 
nights  which  had  passed  since  she  spoke  with  the 
priest,  vitality  had  burned  to  its  embers  and  rest 
had  come.  Each  mortal  has  one  central  interest 
which  binds  him  to  life.  The  priest  had  put  the 
period  to  this  woman's,  and  did  she  live  through 
eternity,  the  dim  lamp  in  her  soul  would  never 
give  a  flicker  nor  send  a  ripple  through  her  veins. 
Her  heart  was  not  even  sad;  it  pulsed  haltingly 
though  its  numbered  beats. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  woman  turned  her 
head.  An  old  man,  with  cold  calm  spiritual  face 


LOS   CERRITOS.  279 

entered  and  stood  beside  her.  She  held  out  her 
hand,  but  no  color  touched  her  face.  Had  he 
come  with  the  youth  and  ardor  of  their  first  hour's 
passion  he  could  not  have  stirred  her. 

The  priest  took  her  hand  and  looked  into  her 
calm  eyes.  "  I  have  come,"  he  said,  "  to  tell  you 
that  the  struggle  is  over,  that  the  man  is  dead, 
and  the  priest  alone  remains.  I  have  thought  it 
best  to  tell  you  this  that  you  might  have  one  re 
proach  less  on  your  soul.  During  these  days  I 
have  plucked  memory  up  by  her  roots ;  I  have 
pinched  imagination  to  death  between  my  fingers 
as  I  would  snuff  out  a  candle ;  I  have  dug  a  grave 
and  buried  passion.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  I  am 
equipped  for  my  work,  for  the  first  time  I  can 
hope  for  forgiveness  for  the  sins  of  my  youth.  I 
can  pray  for  your  soul  as  well  as  mine,  and  I  be 
lieve  that  our  sin  will  be  forgiven  us." 

The  woman  moved  her  head,  her  eyes  wander 
ing  to  the  golden  mountains.  Where  wTas  her 
lover?  Waiting  far  back  on  the  shores  of  youth? 
A  man  is  more  than  one  being  in  his  life.  If  the 
last  persists,  why  not  the  first?  If  there  be  a  here 
after  for  his  age,  why  not  for  his  youth? 


280  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"Is  religion  impossible  without  fanaticism?" 
she  said  faintly.  "  It  was  not  sin.  You  had  not 
been  ordained,  your  future  was  still  your  own, 
and  man  was  not  made  to  live  on  dogmas.  And 
your  church — our  church,  if  you  will,  for  it  holds 
me,  too — should  be  satisfied.  If  I  betrayed  one 
of  its  poor  secrets  that  slipped  your  tongue,  I  be 
trayed  it  through  ignorance  of  its  awful  signifi 
cance,  and  I  have  been  punished!  I  could  not 
foresee  the  terrible  consequences.  The  most  terri 
ble  to  me  has  been  that  you  loved  your  religion 
better  than  me.  I  could  have  stood  the  separa 
tion,  since  it  was  inevitable,  but  not  that." 

"  I  have  not  come  to  reproach  you  further.  The 
fault  was  mine  from  the  beginning.  I  broke  the 
vows  my  spirit,  if  not  my  tongue,  had  made." 

She  smiled  at  the  swimming  mountains,  vague 
and  exquisite  as  the  memories  of  the  past. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured,  "  thank  God  you  did." 
1  The  priest  sighed  and  bent  over  her.  "  I  go, 
Geraldine.  But  let  me  speak  to  you  first  as  priest 
to  penitent.  The  world  has  no  longer  a  place  for 
you.  Give  your  soul  and  energies  to  the  church. 
Spend  your  life  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  praying 


LOS   CERRITOS.  28 1 

for  the  sins  of  mankind.  For  every  prayer  offered 
up  on  raked  knees,  aching  through  a  winter's 
night  on  a  stone  floor,  shall  a  woman's  erring  soul 
be  reclaimed.  I  know  a  beautiful  convent,  Geral- 
dine,  in  the  heart  of  Europe,  whose  gardens  are 
like  the  groves  of  paradise,  leading  the  thoughts 
to  celestial  gates.  The  lilies  lie  on  the  lake  and 
the  gray  stone  walls  thrust  their  rough  old  stones 
through  swarming  green.  The  chapel  is  arched 
and  dim,  and  the  nuns  kneel  in  their  oaken  stalls 
and  chant  like  a  celestial  choir,  while  the  incense 
floats  above  and  wreathes  the  pictured  windows. 
Do  you  remember  the  chorus  of  nuns  in  Chopin's 
nocturne?  In  those  moments  your  spirit  will  faint 
with  heavenly  ecstasy;  you  will  know  a  delicious 
foretaste  of  the  joy  to  come.  But  the  cells  are 
cold  and  bare,  and  on  their  stones  you  will  mor 
tify  the  flesh,  and  your  spirit  will  wail  for  the  re 
demption  of  the  world.  This  is  the  life  for  you, 
Geraldine.  Give  me  your  promise  to  go  and  I 
will  write  to-morrow  to  the  reverend  mother." 

But  Geraldine,  still  with  that  smile  of  perfect 
peace  on  her  cold  lips,  had  gone  down  into  the 
shadowy  valley,  to  dwell  forever  by  that  quiet 
river  whose  voice  would  chant  dear  memories. 


282  LOS   CERRITOS. 


XVII. 

THEEE   LAMPS   GO  OUT. 

As  Tremaine  stood  on  the  porch  of  the  Agnitas 
waiting  for  the  stage  which  would  carry  him  back 
to  civilization,  his  eyes  were  suddenly  arrested  by 
an  object  far  down  the  road  he  was  to  traverse. 
It  looked  like  a  small  pink  cloud  which  had  floated 
on  from  sunrise.  Directly  beneath  the  cloud— 
which,  by  the  way,  was  floating  toward  the  Agui- 
tas — was  another  object  that  looked  much  like  a 
wagon  drawn  by  a  pair  of  spanking  horses.  Tre 
maine  levelled  his  field  glass  at  the  approaching 
phenomenon.  Yes,  it  certainly  was  a  wagon,  and 
those  horses  were  not  mustangs.  And — yes — the 
pink  cloud  was  a  parasol. 

He  lowered  his  glass  with  a  laugh.  "  Kather  a 
refreshing  sight,"  he  thought,  "  but  so  incongru 
ous  that  it  is  almost  a  parody." 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  porch,  idly  watch 
ing  the  approaching  wagon  when  his  steps  turned 


LOS   CERRITOS.  283 

Mm  toward  it.  Some  people  were  doubtless  trav 
elling  in  their  own  conveyance  to  the  hot  springs 
ill  the  south.  As  the  wagon  came  nearer  he  could 
make  out  that  a  woman  in  it  wore  a  dress  of  sil 
ver  gray,  and  later,  that  she  had  fair  hair.  Sud 
denly  he  stopped  short,  his  heavy  eyes  opening 
wide  with  an  angry  gleam. 

"  Jimminy  Creepers,"  exclaimed  Hawkins,  who 
was  sitting  on  a  barrel  chewing  tobacco,  "  if  it  ain't 
Missis  Tremaine." 

Mrs.  Termaine  it  was.  She  drove  up,  smiling, 
fresh  and  dainty  as  the  wild  flowers  she  had  not 
deigned  to  notice.  As  she  saw  Tremaine  she  wafted 
him  a  kiss  with  her  little  gray  fingers,  and  seemed 
not  at  all  disconcerted  by  his  lack  of  enthusiasm. 

"  You  wouldn't  answer  my  letters  to  say  I  could 
come,"  she  cried,  with  her  infantile  pout,  "  so  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  do  as  I  pleased  for  once.  1 
was  determined  to  see  this  place,  and  have  a  look 
at  the  picturesque  Californian.  Do  they  wear 
sombreros  and  ponchos?  What  is  the  matter  with 
your  arm?"  And  she  sprang  lightly  past  Tre- 
maine's  hand,  followed  by  her  less  agile  maid. 

"  I  hurt  it.    You  have  selected  an  unfortunate 


284  LOS   CERRITOS. 

time,"  added  her  husband  coldly.  "  I  return  by 
the  stage  to  day." 

"No!  no!  you  must  not  go,"  she  said  coax- 
ingly,  "  I  am  too  tired  to  go  back  to-day.  Just 
think! — I  have  driven  thirty  miles.  Why  can't 
they  run  the  trains  this  way?  You  would  not  be 
so  cruel  as  to  take  me  right  back." 

Tremaine  hesitated.  It  would  be  rather  brutal- 
"  Very  well,"  he  said  finally,  "  I  will  stay  over  un 
til  to-morrow;  bat  you  must  go  then.  I  have  im 
perative  business ;  and  I  do  not  suppose  you  wish 
to  stay  here  alone." 

"Of  course  not,  although  if  I  had  known  you 
would  be  so  selfish  I  should  have  brought  a  lot 
of  people  and  we  could  have  entertained  each 
other.  I  would  have  brought  them,  anyhow,  but 
I  was  not  sure  of  the  accommodations.  I  suppose 
you  have  something  for  me  to  eat  and  a  place 
where  I  can  rest." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  and  he  opened  the  door 
of  his  room.  "  You  can  have  this.  There  is  another 
vacant,  I  believe,  but  this  is  the  more  comfortable. 
You  will  have  to  leave  the  door  open  or  keep 
your  lamp  lit,  however,  for  there  is  no  window." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  285 

"No  what?  but  that  is  too  funny.  I  shall  have 
an  experience  to  relate  when  I  go  home.  A  room 
without  a  window !  " 

Pier  maid  fixed  her  comfortably  on  the  bed,  and 
Tremaine  sent  her  some  fried  steak  and  cold  ap 
ple  pie,  upon  which  the  landlady  had  placed  a 
large  slice  of  butter.  She  discarded  the  butter 
with  a  wry  face,  but  being  hungry,  managed  to 
eat  the  rest,  and  then  slept  like  an  infant  for  a 
couple  of  hours.  At  the  end  of  that  time  she  felt 
like  a  morning  rose  and  returned  to  the  porch 
where  her  unwilling  lord  was  awaiting  her. 

"  I  want  to  be  amused,  Alex,"  she  said  plain 
tively.  "  Take  me  somewhere.  I  want  to  see  the 
place  and  the  people.  If  you  make  me  go  back 
to-morrow  it  is  your  duty  to  entertain  me  to 
day.  Do  they  all  live  in  one  room  ? " 

Tremaine  groaned  in  spirit.  He  did  not  feel  in 
an  amusing  vein,  and  his  wife  was  the  last  person 
on  earth  he  wanted  to  talk  to.  And  to  drive  with 
her  about  this  ranch ! 

"  You  would  not  find  these  people  interesting, 
and  the  roads  are  very  rough,"  he  was  beginning, 
when  Hawkins  came  to  the  rescue. 


286  LOS   CERRITOS. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  my  officiousness,  sir,"  lie 
said,  tipping  his  hat,  "I  would  suggest  as  how 
you  took  Missis  Tremaine  to  see  the  cattle  brand- 
in'  over  to  Lightfoot's.  It's  only  a  matter  of  six 
miles  and  she  kin  stay  there  all  night.  If  you 
don't  want  to  go,  I  would  like  nothin'  better'n  to 
take  her,  as  I'd  like  to  see  the  round-up  myself." 

Tremaine  caught  eagerly  at  the  proposition. 

"  Yes,  go,  Adelaide,"  he  said.  "  There  is  an  ex 
perience,  if  you  want  one,  and  will  give  you  some 
thing  to  talk  about.  The  Mexican  is  picturesque 
on  horseback,  if  anywhere,  and  Lightfoot  has  the 
finest  cattle  in  the  valley." 

Mrs.  Tremaine  needed  no  urging;  the  proposi 
tion  had  fascinated  her  at  once.  She  rose  to  her 
feet  and  tied  the  strings  of  her  bonnet. 

"  Do  we  go  now? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  we  hav'n't  no  time  to  lose  and  it's 
one  o'clock  now.  I'll  put  two  fresh  mustangs  in 
that  ere  light  wagon  you  brought  and  we'll  be  off 
in  fifteen  minutes." 

"  Have  you  been  ill,"  demanded  Mrs.  Tremaine 
of  her  husband,  as  they  walked  back  and  forth, 
awaiting  Hawkins'  return.  "  You  are  rather  pale 


LOS   CERRITOS.  287 

and  you  look  quite  different — I  can  hardly  say 
how;  but  you  do." 

"  I  had  some  fever,  but  I  am  well  enough  now." 

"  Did  you  have  much  trouble  with  these  people? 
Have  they  all  gone? " 

"They  went,  but  they  come  back  to-morrow;  I 
will  explain  when  we  return  to  town.  I  do  not 
feel  in  a  humor  for  talking  business  to-day." 

Mrs.  Tremaine  lifted  her  pretty  little  pink  chin, 
"  Well,  one  thing  is  certain ;  dispossessing  squat, 
ters  has  not  improved  your  temper.  You  are  as 
cross  as  a  bear." 

"  I  am  not  cross,  but  it  has  annoyed  me  to  be 
obliged  to  defer  my  return  to  town.  Are  you  sure 
you  are  too  tired  for  the  trip?  It  is  not  too  late." 

He  remembered  afterward  that  her  curved  little 
mouth  had  never  set  itself  in  a  more  determined 
line  as  she  looked  past  him  at  the  approaching 
wagon  and  replied  with  her  babyish  inflection. 

"Yes." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently  and 
helped  her  into  the  wagon,  then  felt  some  com 
punction  for  his  abruptness. 

"Take  good  care  of  yourself,"  he  said,  as  he 


288  LOS  CERRITOS. 

wrapped  the  linen  dust  cloth  about  her.  "  The 
roads  have  been  badly  cut  up  by  the  heavy  rains 
and  you  will  be  a  good  deal  jolted.  Hold  on  when 
you  come  to  the  bad  places.  Shall  I  raise  your 
parasol  for  you?" 

"No,  thanks.  Grood-by,"  and  Mrs.  Tremaine, 
whose  temper  was  rarely  ruffled,  gave  him  a  charm 
ing  smile  and  drove  off  under  her  pink  canopy,  re 
garded  with  awe  and  admiration  by  the  habitues 
of  the  Aguitas. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  Poverty  Flat,  Missis? " 
asked  Hawkins. 

"Poverty  Flat?" 

"That's  what  they  call  the  place  where  the 
squatters  is  camped.  I  suppose  Mister  Tremaine's 
told  you  that  he's  give  them  all  their  farms." 

"He's  done  what?" 

"  Give  'em  to  'em,  out  and  out,  or  will  at  the 
end  of  five  years,  and  is  agoin'  to  pay  the  taxes  to 
boot.  The  sheriff  has  cleared  out  in  disgust.  I 
don't  mean  to  pass  any  remarks  myself,  and  Mis 
ter  Tremaine's  old  enough  to  know  his  own  bizness 
best,  but  I'll  be  doggoned  if  I  kin  help  doin'  a 
heap  o'  thinkin'." 


LOS   CERRITOS.  289 

"  I  am  sure  you  must  be  mistaken.  Mr.  Tre- 
maine  is  considered  an  unusually  good  business 
man.  How  many  of  them  are  there?  I  suppose 
they  could  all  be  put  at  one  end  of  the  ranch  so 
that  they  wouldn't  interfere  with  us." 

Hawkins  knew  that  he  had  no  right  to  gossip 
about  Tremaine's  plans,  even  to  his  wife,  but  the 
temptation  to  communicate  the  astounding  news 
was  too  great  to  be  resisted. 

"Well  you  see,  Missis,"  he  said,  "you  ain't 
heard  the  wust  yet — not  by  a  long  shot.  Mister 
Tremaine  is  goin'  to  send  down  two  surveyors  to 
stake  off  the  ranch  into  fifty-acre  farms,  and  I've 
got  orders  to  give  any  man  possession  who  comes 
down  with  a  certificate  from  him.  There  ain't  no 
use  mincin'  the  truth,  he's  goin'  to  give  this  eli- 
gant  ranch,  fifty  thousand  acres,  clean  away,  and 
I  for  one  call  it  a  damned  shame.  Excuse  me, 
Missis,  but  I  do.  Remember  I've  knowed  Mister 
Tremaine  man  and  boy." 

Adelaide  turned  white  about  her  lips.  "  And  I 
am  not  going  to  have  my  Spanish  house  and  Eng 
lish  park,"  she  said,  unconsciously  stating  her 
grievance  aloud.  "  He  is  going  to  give  this  mag- 


2QO  LOS   CERRITOS. 

nificent  place,  that  Tie  paid  two  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  dollars  for,  to  a  lot  of  common 
ignorant  Irish  emigrants  and  dirty  natives.  He 
shall  not !  I  will  not  let  him." 

Hawkins  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  kalkilate 
you  can  do  any  good,  Missis.  Mister  Tremaine's 
pretty  set  in  his  ways,  once  he  takes  a  streak.  The 
deed's  done." 

"  He  will  be  the  laughing  stock  of  San  Francis 
co,"  exclaimed  Adelaide,  another  phase  of  the  ca 
lamity  presenting  itself.  "  The  papers  will  fairly 
hoot  at  him.  I  won't  stay  in  the  town.  But  I 
always  knew  he'd  do  something  ridiculous.  Un 
der  all  that  sleepy  indifference,  there  are  a  lot  of 
old-fashioned  notions  and  absurd  impulses.  I  only 
wonder  he  hasn't  presented  his  whole  fortune  to 
the  State  and  turned  me  out  into  the  street."  In 
the  bitterness  of  her  grief  she  felt  almost  confi 
dential  toward  the  disapproving  servitor. 

"  I  sympathize  with  you,  ma'am.  I  do  indeed. 
But  there's  Poverty  Flat,  if  you'd  like  to  see  it. 
I  felt  rather  sorry  for  'em  before,  but  I'll  be 
hanged  if  I  do  nowr." 

Mrs.   Tremaine  turned    her   head  and  looked 


LOS  CERRITOS.  29 1 

through  shining  angry  eyes  at  the  wretched  en 
campment  by  the  roadside. 

'*!  do  not  wish  to  stop,"  she  said.  "  They  are 
not  even  picturesque.  Look  at  those  dirty  little 
naked  children  playing  with  the  pigs !  It's  inde 
cent.  And  those  fat  women  are  really  horrible. 
Tremaine  had  better  buy  them  some  corsets."  She 
had  the  latent  vulgarity  of  all  cold  natures,  but 
she  would  have  attributed  its  manifestation  to  the 
revolt  of  outraged  refinement. 

Hawkins  thought  her  very  witty  and  laughed 
heartily.  u  That  ud  be  throwin'  jewels  to  swine, 
sure  enough.  They  never  seen  corsets  in  their 
born  days.  This  is  the  Rancho  de  los  Colmenares 
—means  Ranch  of  the  bee-hives,  and  belongs  to 
Mr.  Lightfoot.  He's  got  about  sixty  thousand 
acres,  but  the  ranch  ain't  a  circumstance  to  the 
Cerritos  for  beauty.  It's  mostly  flat,  you  see,  but 
its  a  bully  farm  for  raisin'  cattle.  Mr.  Lightfoot 
must  have  made  a  good  pile  last  year.  It's  a  big 
pay  in'  business,  I  tell  you  what." 

Mrs.  Tremaine^  was  beginning  to  tire  of  the 
agent's  attempts  to  entertain  her,  and  retiring 
within  herself,  meditated  upon  her  wrongs.  She 


LOS  CERRITOS. 

had  one  compensation  in  store.  Several  times 
during  her  married  life  she  had  given  Tremaine 
an  extremely  uncomfortable  fifteen  minutes.  She 
decided  that  when  she  returned*  to  the  Cerritos  to 
morrow  morning  he  should  feel  as  if  he  were  be 
ing  slowly  crushed  in  an  ice-field.  That  was  one 
of  her  accomplishments,  and  she  was  proud  of  it. 

The  wagon  jolted  heavily  over  the  rough  road 
and  she  wished  that  she  had  not  come.  Her  back 
ached  and  the  sun  blazed  through  her  thin  parasol. 

"  How  many  more  miles  have  we? "  she  asked. 

"  We'll  be  there  in  ten  minutes,  Missis,"  and 
Adelaide,  tipping  back  her  sunshade,  saw,  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  a  large  adobe  house  with 
a  rude  garden  about  it,  and,  at  the  back,  a  large 
corral  and  a  field  of  cattle. 

''They're  roundin'-up  now,"  continued  Haw 
kins.  "  We're  in  good  time  for  the  brandin'." 

The  road  took  them  by  the  field  and  Adelaide 
looked  with  some  interest  at  the  army  of  red  and 
white  animals  with  their  tossing  horns.  A  num 
ber  of  vaqueros  were  galloping  about  shouting  at 
the  cattle  and  trying  to  press  them  into  rank. 

"  By    Golly ! "  exclaimed    Hawkins    suddenly, 


LOS   CERRITOS.  293 

"  if  there  ain't  Castro.  Well,  of  all  the  gall,  and  a 
sheriff  after  him.  And  there's  Espinoza  too." 

As  Castro  saw  Hawkins  he  spurred  his  horse 
and  rode  up  to  him.  The  scowl  on  his  face  was 
heavier  than  usual. 

"  Whatte  this  I  hear? "  he  demanded.  "  Espi 
noza  go  to  keep  his  hacienda? " 

Hawkins  gave  a  grunt.  He  was  not  afraid  of 
Castro,  with  a  half  dozen  other  men  in  sight. 
"  What's  that  your  bizness? " 

"  Telia  me  si  it  is  true? "  roared  Casto.  "  Diablo ! 
whatte  he  do  for  the  Senor  Tremaine  to  getta  his 
ranchita  when  the  others  live  in  the  mud?  He 
give  to  him  Car— 

"  Shut  up!  "  interrupted  Hawkins,  and  he  drove 
off.  Castro  sent  a  volley  of  curses  after  him,  then 
wheeled  and  galloped  directly  over  to  Espinoza. 

Hawkins  drove  the  wagon  into  the  shed  and 
lifted  Mrs.  Tremaine  to  the  ground. 

"You  won't  mind  walkin'  a  bit?  But  there's  no 
safe  place  to  tie  the  horses  near  the  corral." 

"I  am  glad  to  walk,"  she  said,  and  moving 
lightly  over  the  ground,  she  looked  like  an  ani 
mated  silver  statue  topped  by  a  big  pink  rose. 


294  LOS   CERRITOS. 

The  sun  beat  full  upon  her,  and  as  she  walked  up 
the  road  toward  the  corral  Lightfoot  and  his  va- 
queros  stopped  a  moment  to  look  at  her. 

"  Who's  the  visitor? "  asked  the  master  curious 
ly.  "  Looks  like  'Frisco.  That's  Tremaine's  agent 
with  'er.  Blowed  if  I  kin  be  bothered  with  'er, 
though,  and  Mrs.  L.'s  away.  Here,  Castro,  stop 
your  rowing  with  Espinoza  and  help  round  up 
these  cattle.  They're  as  obstinate  as  mules  to-day. 
Rope  that  girl  over  there.  She's  been  behavin* 
like  hell  all  mornin',  and  they'll  be  makin'  a  break 
fust  thing  you  know.  Here!  none  o'  that  — 

But  before  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth, 
Castro  had  snatched  his  pistol  from  his  belt  and 
discharged  it  at  Espinoza.  The  shot  missed  its 
mark,  but  struck  a  steer  just  behind.  With  a  fu 
rious  bellow  the  animal  reared  and  struck  a  neigh 
bor  with  its  forefeet.  In  a  second  terror  and 
fury  had  run  like  an  electric  wave  over  the  whole 
body  of  cattle. 

"My  God!"  cried  Lightfoot,  "there's  goin'  to 
be  trouble." 

The  cattle  were  seething  and  trampling,  stum 
bling  against  each  other  and  rushing  aimlessly  from 


LOS   CERRITOS.  2Q5 

right  to  left.  Castro,  seeing  what  he  had  done, 
felt  a  brute  desire  to  show  these  angry  beasts  with 
their  ominous  mutterings  that  he  was  master. 
.With  a  hoarse  cry  which  every  one  of  them  under 
stood  he  dashed  along  their  front,  vociferating  at 
them  like  a  furious  general  at  a  cowardly  army. 
For  a  second  the  cattle  shrank,  then  blind  terror 
possessed  them  once  more.  He  was  too  late.  The 
smell  of  blood  was  in  their  nostrils !  . 

Suddenly  their  aimless  trampling  ceased.  One 
in  the  front  rank  had  caught  sight  of  the  brilliant 
pink  and  silver  object  coming  up  the  road.  Then 
purpose  entered  into  his  madness,  and  with  a  fu 
rious  bellow  he  made  straight  for  the  open. 
Lightfoot  and  his  men  yelled  with  horror.  The 
former  raised  himself  in  his  stirrups  and  waved 
his  hat  frantically  at  the  stupefied  woman,  pointing 
toward  his  house.  Castro  was  half  way  across  the 
field  when  the  concerted  movement  took  place. 
As  he  saw  that  a  stampede  was  inevitable  he 
turned  with  an  oath  and  dashed  down  the  road. 
Hawkins  had  caught  Mrs.  Tremaine  by  the  hand 
and  was  running  across  the  open  in  the  poor  hope  of 
getting  beyond  the  catties'  flank  before  they  should 


296  LOS   CERRITOS. 

have  time  to  turn.  Adelaide  gave  one  terrified 
glance  over  her  shoulder,  then  shut  her  eyes  and 
stumbled  after  Hawkins.  But  still  she  saw  those 
tossing  horns  like  gaunt  skeleton  fingers,  those 
flaming  eyes  and  frothing  mouths.  Castro,  yell 
ing  frantically,  neared  them.  His  horse  shied 
violently  at  a  large  pink  object  on  the  ground, 
reared  at  the  vicious  pull  on  his  cruel  bit,  stum 
bled  and  went  down  with  the  cursing  Mexican  in 
a  cloud  of  dust.  The  harsh,  horrified  shouts  of 
Lightfoot  and  his  men,  the  hoarse  protest  of  one 
doomed  man,  the  gurgling  curses  of  another  as 
he  tore  the  ground  with  teeth  and  nails,  the  shrill 
hopeless  scream  of  a  woman,  and  the  cattle,  close 
in  their  ranks  as  an  army  which  was  to  decide  the 
fate  of  a  nation,  swept  over  the  shaking  miles. 

And  where  a  moment  before  had  been  two  strong 
men  and  one  fair  woman,  was  a  pulpy  mass  of 
flesh  and  cloth  trampled  down  into  the  ever  wait 
ing,  all  receiving  earth. 


THE  LITANY  OF  THE  REDWOODS. 


LOS  CERRITOS.  299 


THE   LITANY   OF   THE    REDWOODS. 

A  LIGHT  fall  of  snow  had  drifted  through  the 
redwood  tops  and  powdered  the  brown  pine  nee 
dles.  The  squirrels  chatted  in  their  hidden  store 
rooms,  and  the  deer  leaped  in  the  keen  bright  air. 
The  redwoods,  gray  and  stern,  set  their  heads 
against  the  coming  blasts  and  braced  their  rigid 
arms.  They  might  succumb  to  man  and  steel, 
but  Nature  had  no  enemy  to  pit  against  them. 

Carmelita  lay  at  the  foot  of  her  redwood.  She 
did  not  feel  so  intimate  with  him  as  of  old,  but 
she  loved  him  for  remembrance'  sake  and  he  was 
her  only  friend.  For  she  was  very  lonely.  Geral- 
dine  had  gone.  The  padre  was  like  a  passing 
ghost.  She  had  not  heard  from  Tremaine  since 
she  had  bidden  him  good-by  in  the  Mission's 
cloister.  She  had  sternly  put  aside  all  insistent 
hopes  born  of  his  wife's  horrible  death,  but  that 
lie  ]oved  her  and  that  she  would  see  him  again  she 


300  LOS   CERRITOS. 

never  doubted.  Not  a  mile  from  her  tree,  in  the 
very  heart  of  the  forest,  an  immense  adobe  house 
had  been  built  on  a  cliff  above  the  creek.  Men 
had  come  from  the  city  and  furnished  it,  and  an 
old  couple  had  been  placed  in  charge.  Carmelita 
knew  that  sooner  or  later  Tremaine  would  come 
and  live  in  that  house ;  but  at  this  point  her  fu 
ture's  perspective  closed  suddenly.  Every  even 
ing  she  spent  an  hour  in  the  cloisters  of  the  Mis 
sion  and  Tremaine  was  with  her  then. 

She  raised  her  head.  A  horseman  was  coming 
up  the  road ;  the  dry  branches  were  crackling  un 
der  the  mustang's  feet.  She  sat  up  with  a  frown. 
This  was  her  own  domain  and  no  one  had  ever 
passed  this  way  before.  It  must  be  one  of  the 
new  fanners,  and  for  a  moment  her  philanthropy 
was  threatened. 

The  horse  toiled  up  the  steep  road,  and  through 
the  trees  she  saw  him  round  the  gulch.  She  sprang 
to  her  feet,  the  breath  struggling  in  her  throat. 
Horse  and  rider  passed  behind  a  clump  of  trees, 
then  reappeared  a  few  feet  away,  and  Carmelita 
turned  and  pressed  her  face  to  her  tree. 

Tremaine  threw  the  bridle  over  the  horse's  neck 


LOS  CERRITOS.  301 

and  came  to  her.  He  took  her  to  him  and  kissed 
her  face  and  mouth  until  the  girl  lay  heavy  in  his 
arms,  her  fingers  drawn  to  her  palms  with  pain  in 
their  tips.  He  unbraided  her  hair  and  cast  it 
about  her.  "  That  is  the  way  I  always  see  you," 
he  said,  his  own  voice  shaking,  "  only  it  should 
drift  over  a  long,  white  gown.  We  will  be  mar 
ried  in  the  old  Mission  by  your  padre,  and  the 
house  by  the  creek  is  ready  for  us." 

He  pushed  his  hand  through  her  warm  hair, 
but  looked  past  her  awakening  eyes.  "  I  have  a 
plan  of  life  to  propose  to  you,"  he  went  on  steady 
ing  his  voice.  "  I  have  given  it  much  thought  in 
lonely  nights  since  we  parted ;  but  I  have  lived 
widely,  I  have  known  the  redwoods,  and  I  think 
I  am  right.  I  want  you  to  have  no  friend,  not 
even  an  acquaintance,  but  myself;  that  is,  of  our 
station  in  life.  We  have  both  work  to  do  among 
these  squatters.  But  you  must  have  no  one  to 
depend  upon  for  your  pleasure,  your  diversion, 
your  entertainment,  or  happiness,  you  must  have 
no  companion  but  myself.  This  is  not  jealousy, 
Carmelita,  unless  it  be  a  jealous  desire  for  your 
good.  I  have  drunk  of  all  the  wines  that  flow 


3O2  LOS   CERRITOS. 

from  the  fountain  of  life.  There  is  nothing  in 
society,  nothing  in  friendship,  nothing  even  in 
personal  contact  with  great  minds.  Their  written 
words  are  always  the  best  part  of  them.  Friends 
have  other  friends,  or  when  they  do  not  betray  or 
scratch  they  weary  with  the  minds  we  have  ex 
hausted.  Society  is  a  bubble  to  be  pricked,  not 
blown.  So  I  have  come  to  this  conclusion :  that 
the  only  chance  of  happiness  lies  in  the  isolated 
companionship  of  mated  souls.  Nor  can  I  see 
anything  selfish  in  such  a  life.  I  fail  to  remem 
ber  ever  having  done  any  man  good  by  listening 
to  his  tiresome  opinions  or  to  his  string  of  woes 
that  he  had  poured  into  a  dozen  ears  before  mine. 
But  let  that  go.  Later — in  a  year  or  two— you 
shall  see  all  that  the  best  part  of  the  world  has  to 
offer.  Does  all  this  sound  selfish  to  you,  Carme- 
lita?  Aside  from  my  own  desires,  I  have  planned 
for  your  good  with  all  the  sense  and  experience  I 
possess.  With  people  in  general  you  have  noth 
ing  in  common,  and  in  that  minor  world  we  call 
society  you  would  be  wretched  and  disgusted. 
You  would  not  understand  nor  be  understood. 
But  'life'  in  its  free  and  educating  sense  you 


LOS   CERRITOS.  303 

shall  know  and  feel  that  no  woman  stands  before 
yon.    My  God!  what  a  woman  you  will  make." 

He  went  on  dreamily,  his  face  against  hers. 
"  Is  there  one  woman  who  will  look  at  life  through 
the  eyes  of  her  lover  and  not  insist  upon  nibbling 
every  apple  until  each  line  flower  of  her  nature  is 
brown  and  curled  at  the  edges?  Shall  we  live  in 
this  forest  until  we  have  absorbed  its  mighty  sym 
bolism  and  the  mystery  of  the  redwoods?  We 
shall  know  that  primeval  union- 
He  unclasped  his  arms  and  pushed  her  back 
against  the  tree,  looking  full  into  her  eyes. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  love  me,"  he  said.  "  Quick!  " 
She  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  with  languid 
eyes  and  parted  lips.  Then  a  great  flame  burst 
from  her  heart  and  swept  through  her  body.  She 
gave  a  loud,  ecstatic  cry,  like  a  lioness  who  has 
found  her  mate. 

"Alejandro !  Alejandro !     I  love  you!  " 
And  she  flung  her  arms  about  him  and  kissed 
him  full  on  the  mouth. 

He  staggered  under  her  passionate  lips  as  he 
had  not  when  Castro's  arms  had  crushed  him,  and 
his  self-control  gave  way.  He  caught  her  in  a 


304  LOS  CERRITOS. 

sudden,  hard  embrace  and  kissed  her  until  the 
mountain  reeled  beneath  them  and  the  forest  hum 
dinned  in  their  ears  as  if  all  the  sounds  of  earth 
were  in  that  lonely  spot. 

"  I  say  before  to  myself,  but  no  like  this,"  she 
panted,  shaking  in  his  arms,  then  said  no  more. 

But  the  redwood  sighed,  for  his  heart  was  lonely. 


THE  END. 


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